Self Sustained Hell
by tbka
Summary: Complete: .:Ch. 9 UP!:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself?
1. Teaser

**Self-Sustained Hell**

_**Summary: **.:.:.:. Teaser Chapter .:.:.:. The one shinobi who has never failed a mission is the one shinobi that will never meet his own standards. Who will try again and again and in his own mind he will always fail. .:.:.:. Sequel to **Black Day** .:.:.:._

_**Genre: **Angst_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **Sequel to Black Day._

_**Disclaimer: **Me not own Naruto…me not want to be sued._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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The hall is quiet save for the rustling of the wind blowing in through the opened window. The air smells of death. As it should, blood had been shed not that long ago. The presence of despair could be felt by even the youngest of children: that I was sure of.

An hour ago, or maybe two, this very hall, this very hospital, had been bustling with frantic activity. Activity meant to save lives, for the blood of many innocent civilians, and shinobi, had been spilt tonight. Blood that dried on the walls and the floor. Blood that caked my clothes and hands, blood from a frantic action to stop the arrival of death.

Blood that will no longer flow. Bright red blood; now black as the night that engulfs this land.

Death came early for many tonight, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of the internal struggle of one famous shinobi, an internal struggle brought out for all to see. A struggle that just escalated beyond anyone's worst nightmares and now that silver-haired shinobi has more deaths to add to his conscious; more blood to soak his hands.

And he will never be forced to pay, he will never be punished. For he is Hatake Kakashi, the famous Copy-Nin; the one shinobi that Konoha cannot function without. The one who has given up more than anyone else for this village; he's lost his family, his friends, his childhood, his sanity, and whatever resemblance of a life that he might've been able to have.

He's lost himself, he lost himself years ago. He is, by my account, the only shinobi that has ever managed to live past two years after losing their desire to live. He lost his desire when he was fourteen and still he keeps on fighting, keeps on killing, keeps on serving this village. And what for? To regain the honor his father lost? To try and be perfect?

The one shinobi who has never failed a mission is the one shinobi that will never meet his own standards. Who will try again and again and in his own mind he will always fail.

It almost makes me feel like forgiving the guy for what he's done.

Almost.

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	2. Chapter One

**Self-Sustained Hell**

_**Summary: **::Ch. 1:: I feel suspended in air, disconnected from myself and the rest of the world. Floating in a void of blackness and I can't remember anything at all; only that this is it. This is the end. . ::Sequel to **Black Day**::_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **This chapter is quite short but don't worry, the others will be longer. I promise! Also, thanks are in order for everyone who has been patiently waiting so long for me to get this story going again. So thank you for sticking this out!!! _

_**Disclaimer: **Naruto is not mine. I'm making no money. Please don't sue._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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_**Part of The Kakashi Chronicles, that currently include (in chronological order):**  
Fade to Black  
Black Day  
Self-Sustained Hell  
Left Behind_  
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The kunai rips through my stomach and I feel my skin tearing, the veins bursting and my blooding spilling from me. I blink, my memories fleeing from my mind and I can't figure out what I did wrong or why I'm here. Bile rises in my throat as I struggle to get my bearings and asses the situation. Blinking, my blurry vision begins to clear and what I see shocks me.

A kunai lays imbedded in a child's neck, no more than seven years old, her eyes staring up at me; pleading for help and asking me why. A hand clutches the bloody kunai, a gloved hand attached to a scared arm, a scared arm attached to my body.

I did this.

Her body fails, sliding off the kunai with a sickening sucking sound and landing, with a thud, on the ground. The kunai slips from my grasp and my arm limply falls to my side.

I feel disassociated from my body. As if I'm someone else watching my actions from above me. I can't remember how I got here or why I'm doing this. I desperately try to find a logical explanation to discover the reason behind my actions but my memories of today are gone. Have I blocked out those memories? And if I did, then why? What have I don't that is so bad that I must block it out?

I stumble backwards, the pain in my stomach drags my mind back into my body and I feel like myself again; which is never a good thing. I trip over something, landing hard on the ground. I realize that I tripped over a body.

Another child's body, another innocent young girl.

What have I done?

My eyes follow the trail of my own blood, leading to my almost-friend.

Asuma.

He's still there, crouching in front of the last child I murdered. One of his trench knives poised in front of his face, blood still dripping from it; my blood. His eyes pierce into me; accusing, ashamed, disappointed, and helpless.

I let my eyes wander the training field, the bodies of many lay strewn about; shinobi and children. Children who were just training.

"What have I done?" I whisper to no one, my voice breaking and my body shaking with emotion; that I hide as exhaustion, "Why didn't you stop me?"

Asuma sighs, slowly standing up and returning his trench knives to his holster, "Do you not remember?" he asks. His familiar voice sounds foreign to me and I don't know why.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I ask again, my voice rising with frustration, desperation, confusion, and helplessness.

"Don't try to shake the blame Kakashi, our White Fang of Konoha," Genma says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disgust.

I slowly push myself back up to a standing position, my right arm clutches around my injured abdomen. I look around once again, trying to remember why I'm here, why I've done this; but I can't. No matter how hard I try I just can't remember.

My vision begins to blur as I look around at this destruction I've caused and the shinobi still standing; protecting terrified children.

"Why didn't you stop me!" I scream, my voice cracking at the end as I collapse to the ground; emotions overwhelming me.

Tears; wet and salty, unwillingly escape from my eyes. My perfect mask shatters into a million pieces as I stare at my hands, knees sitting in a poll of innocent blood, and watch my tears fall onto the ground and my bloody hands. The wet, clear liquid slowly mixes with the red, sticky, life-giving liquid on my own tainted hands and slowly washes them clean.

"Why didn't you stop me?" I choke out, shuddering under the weight of my grief, "Why?"

Someone kneels down beside me and I turn my head to look up at the intruder. His accusing eyes bore holes into my own eyes and I drop my head to stare at my now clean hands; too ashamed to look at another person. I begin to taste my tears as they finally soak through my mask.

"Kakashi?" Asuma whispers beside me, his voice coloured with fake concern.

"Why?" I choke out again, feeling the last of my control beginning to slip away from me, "Why? Why? Why? Wh . . ."

"Kakashi!" Asuma shouts, breaking me out of my ramblings.

My breath catches in my throat as my grief chokes out my last will to live. All these years I've struggled to stay alive, all these years I've struggled to stay in control of myself.

Today I've broken; and I realize that. Today I will never be the same again, I will never be in control again. Today I've become useless; useless and dangerous; dangerous and dead.

I'm dead inside now; I've murdered myself by murdering others. I might as well just be dead physically and remove myself from this world, prevent myself from ever doing this again.

"Kakashi?" Asuma tries again, his voice full of fake caring and fake friendship.

I've lost the respect of everyone in Konoha now; my reputation is shattered. I've fallen into disgrace, just like my father did all those years ago.

"Kakashi?" Asuma whispers, yet again, "Kaka . . ."

"I'm sorry," I quietly interrupt, sobs choking every word, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Kakashi, It's alright. Everything will be okay. Every . . ."

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream, slamming my fist into the ground, "It's not okay! This isn't okay! I CAN'T fix this!"

"Kakashi," he whispers, I can hear the sadness in his voice mirroring the sadness in my own.

I push myself back up into a standing position again. Right hand holding my stomach while my left hand wipes the tears from my burning eyes and removes my tear-soaked mask.

I don't care if they see my face now, I don't care if they know my identity anymore. I'm nothing but a disgraced shinobi, a failure at the only thing I know how to do. I no longer hold the privilege to hide my identity. My mask is broken, my fucked up mind revealed, the meaning to my life destroyed and mangled.

I am nothing anymore.

"Kakashi," Asuma pleads, standing up and grabbing my right shoulder.

"Kakashi," he repeats as if it's a life-line. But I'm not sure if it's a life-line meant for myself of him.

I turn my head and stare into his eyes. Nothing registers anymore; I'm numb to all feelings and emotions. Numb to the world, to myself, and everyone else.

"I am nothing anymore," I say, my voice now calm, collected, and level; almost like a robot's voice.

"Kaka . . ." he beings but I don't hear the rest of his words.

I rip my right shoulder from his grasp as my hands move at lightening speed, forming the familiar seals I've done for all of my short life. The world spins away into a black void but almost immediately comes back into focus. I'm no longer at that destroyed and cursed training fields but at my own, equally destroyed and cursed, apartment.

I walk across my small living room and open the door that leads into my bedroom. The dresser, that's what I'm trying to find. I have to keep myself focused for just a few minutes longer. I walk over to the dresser and open the bottom drawer, it squeaks with years of no use. I faintly feel the blood dripping from my stomach but I ignore it, knowing that it won't last for much longer. I reach down and pick up the only object that lays within and pull it out.

My father's broken sword; the Hatake's legendary sword.

I smile, remember my father and the former fame he held with this sword; the fame my father had before he disgraced himself. No different then how I disgraced myself today.

Now I finally know how he felt, now I finally understand the pain he held within.

I slowly walk back into my living room, my mind blank of all thoughts. I know I must stay calm or else I will lose myself to my emotions before this final mission of mine is completed. My left hand clutches the broken sword with unnecessary force. I can feel the blade cutting my skin; still sharp, even after all these years.

Faintly I hear knocking at my door but it sounds like it's coming from far off. On the other side of a long tunnel, a tunnel so long that I can't even see the end of it. My body shudders from physical fatigue and emotional exhaustion and I stumble, falling hard on my knees on the wooden floor. The sword slips from my grasp and I gasp in pain; catching myself on my hands. My stomach screams in protest at my sudden movements and my head begins to throb.

"Kakashi!" A voice yells from outside my door, the banging is steadily getting louder and louder but I can barely even hear the noise above the rushing of blood in my ears.

I silently thank God for the fact that I somehow locked my door along the way, though I don't remember doing it.

The edges of my vision begins to darken and my breathing becomes even more ragged and rapid in panic. I can't slip into unconsciousness now; not before the end of this final mission.

I try to calm my breathing but I can't seem to. I can't even focus my eyes on my hands; they look blurry and unfocused. My head snaps up at a particularly loud bang on my door. Obito's Sharingan eye automatically activates itself; seeing through my locked door to the person on the other side, or rather, the people on the other side.

A pink-haired girl, a black-haired boy, and a blonde-haired boy; team 7.

My team.

My breathing speeds up even more in severe panic. Why are they here? What are they doing? Did they see what I did? Do they hate me now? They should. I've disgraced myself and them, not to mention this whole village.

And I know they can't see this, they shouldn't see this. It will fuck them up. Just like watching my father fucked me up.

I drop my line of vision from the door and search for that cursed broken sword. I find it, to the left and a little ahead of me. I reach forward with my left hand, my stomach screaming in protest, and attempt to grasp the handle. But I miss, my blurry, now tunnel vision, makes it almost impossible to judge depth, distance, and direction. I shut my eyes, focusing what little amount of chakra I have left to the outside world; attempting to see with my chakra. I reach out yet again for that handle, the smooth wood slips easily into my grasp and I slowly open my eyes with a small smile of accomplishment and resignation playing on my lips. I lean back, resting my full body weight on my knees, my butt on my heels. I lift my right hand and raise it to my face. Blood, sticky blood, my blood on my hands, my tainted blood on my tainted hands. Blood that shall not flow any longer, for the benefit of everyone.

I twist the sword around in my left hand, the shattered end pointing towards my already torn and bloody stomach. I lower my right hand and fold it over my left, my eyes following its shaky path.

Deep breaths, stay calm, no sound, just breathe. My father did this, I watched him. If he can do it then I can easily do it. I'm stronger then he ever was and this will prove it.

Some part of my mind screams in protest. Some small part of my mind is telling me how insane this is, how fucked up my reasoning is and how wrong my judgment is. Too bad that part of my mind is so small that I easily shut it out, burying it underneath everything else and ignoring it.

My head instinctively snaps up at the sound of my door crashing in. I drop my gaze immediately, unable to look into their confused and accusing eyes. I watch as the broken sword pierces deep into my skin, a few swift movements and its done. My insides ripped, torn, and twisted.

I gasp, I can't breathe. My panic rises as I feel the blood pour out of me. The pain is overwhelming and if I could scream then I would but my voice is cut off in my throat. It hurts too much to scream, too breathe, too even think. My mouth turns dry and the room starts spinning. I know this is the end.

I'm terrified.

All of the sudden I'm terrified of what's on the other side. What could I have done better? What will I miss? Will I be forgiven or condemned? Panic rises in me and overtakes the pain; which gives me a strange sense of relief.

I finally realize that I really don't want to die; too bad it's now too late to change my mind.

"Kakashi!" I hear a voice scream in panic but I can't place it.

Someone kneels down in front of me and grabs the broken sword out of my limp hand.

"Oh my God," a girl whispers from somewhere in the room.

The loss of blood makes it hard for me to concentrate on anything anymore. I can't recognize anyone or anything.

"Kakashi," the same voice whispers. I can hear the grief in that strangely familiar voice.

I raise my head up, my head that feels incredibly heavy, to look at the blurry face of that man that I should remember. Another man kneels down beside him and I manage to recognize him; Sarutobi, our Hokage, bloody and bruised. The other man looks somewhat like Sarutobi; as if their related but I can't be sure.

The room begins to spin again and my heavy head starts to feel light, almost as if it's disconnected from the rest of my body. My vision goes, all I can see is black, then my hearing goes, my sense of smell is next, followed by all physically feeling.

I feel suspended in air, disconnected from myself and the rest of the world. Floating in a void of blackness and I can't remember anything at all; only that this is it. This is the end.

I let myself slip into unconsciousness, knowing that I will never wake up. It's finally over.

I'm finally free; forever.


	3. Chapter Two

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 2:.:. Who am I? I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know what I'm hiding from or what I'm trying to protect myself from. I don't understand how I ended up here. I don't understand why I'm like this. .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **Hope you enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto, please don't sue, me have no money._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

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There are days where I wish I wasn't the Hokage; days where I wish I could sit back and watch someone else deal with the troubles of this village. Today is most definitely one of those days. Unfortunately I cannot shun my responsibilities when they become too hard to bear by oneself; even if I could I wouldn't. For whom would I give them to? Who would I wish this suffering upon? Who would I willingly force this terribly responsibility on? A responsibility that tears at the soul.

To watch one of your own shinobi's, one who is like a son to you, destroy themselves is not a responsibility I would wish upon anyone. To watch a young man who you care for become a murderer is too painful to hand over to anyone else to deal with.

No, this responsibility is my own and only my own. It should only have been my own but over the last few months I've tried to share the responsibility, tried to lesson my own burden. It didn't work, now I have only hurt more people than I helped.

I made a mistake years ago, with Sakumo, which has led to this; led to this young man lying before me, unconscious with machines keeping him alive. The son of Hatake Sakumo has followed his famed father's actions, done what he did all those years ago.

I let Sakumo kill himself, believing it was not my place to interfere with another's pain. It was a mistake, a mistake that led to this situation; and I'll be damned if I make the same mistake again.

The door to this small room squeaks open, "What did they say?" my son quietly asks as he walks towards me, the door closing behind him.

"No more than what I knew already," I reply as he stops to stand beside me.

"And that would mean?"

"He may or may not wake-up, the fact he's still alive is a miracle. The same thing we've all heard before, only this time he was more dramatic with it. Finding him in a pool of is own blood is a little more heart-wrenching then finding him unconscious from taking a standard-issued suicide drink."

"It also carries a little more chance of success."

I don't reply and instead just stare at the bed in front of me, listening to the slow and steady beeping of the machine telling us that he's still alive. But for how long?

"So what now? What's the next course of action?"

"I don't know," I reply.

"You don't know?" he asks with a hint of confusion in his voice.

"I don't know all the answers Asuma, I'm not a god," I answer with a little more anger in my voice then I intended.

"I know, but surely you must have some sort of idea."

"I've never had to deal with a situation like this. Suicidal shinobis I can deal with, murderers I can deal with, suicidal shinobis snapping and becoming ruthless mass murderers is something I have never dealt with."

Silence stretches out for a few minutes; the beeping of the machines creates a strange sense of calm in the room.

"Look at him," I whisper; trying to keep my emotions in check, "you and I both know that the Kakashi that appeared today is not the real Kakashi. Somehow I have to convince the rest of Konoha of that fact when all they will be able to see is his actions from today. All they will be able to see is the fact that he murdered, not just shinobi, but innocent children for, what appears to them, no real reason. They will think he's snapped beyond repair, that he is a murderer that must be punished. What they don't understand, what they will never be able to understand, is that Konoha will break if Kakashi dies or his shinobi title is revoked."

Asuma turns his head to look at me; I can feel his eyes staring at me.

"Does Konoha depend on Kakashi that much?" he asks.

I nod, "Even you don't understand the extent of work that Kakashi does for this village. If you, a shinobi, doesn't understand how much Konoha is dependant on Kakashi then how will the villagers understand? They won't, therefore they will be furious when Kakashi is not punished, when he is allowed to continue on with his life."

"I didn't know we were that dependant on Kakashi," my son whispers, returning is gaze to the bed in front of us.

"He has done more missions then his record says; mission so vile that I can't even speak of them. He takes on the missions that everyone else refuses too. He has killed old friends for this village, people he truly cared about he killed just because I told him to, because it was for this village."

Asuma looks at me again, and this time I meet his gaze. I can see his eyes searching me, trying to find out if what I say is true, I can tell he doesn't quite believe me.

"He killed Rin when I ordered him too. He never even asked why he had too."

Asuma's mouth opens in shock, then he closes it. It opens to speak but he closes it yet again. I return my gaze to the prone figure of Kakashi.

"But Rin died when Yondaime died, in the fight with the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox," Asuma whispers, his voice shaking with shock and confusion.

"That's what I thought, that's what we all though. But she never did, she made it look like she was killed and she ran away. It's a long story but she had been manipulating us before then and she continued to for years later; making everyone believe she was dead. We found out a few years after that she was still alive and that she was a traitor. It just took a very long time for us to pin-point her exact location and how best to go about dealing with her," I explain.

Asuma just stares at me, still shocked and confused.

"He never questions the missions, never asks why he has to do them. I think it's easier for him to deal with them if he doesn't know the reasons behind them. I think he preferred to remember Rin as the teammate he knew before Obito died, not as the traitor she became," I continue.

"I can't believe he would do that so willingly," my son murmurs, still in slight shock.

"He never willingly wants to kill anyone. He simply does what he is ordered too. He is the perfect shinobi, the killing machine who does what he is asked to do. It's taken its toll on him, he should've snapped years ago."

We fall back into silence for a long while, half an hour, maybe a full hour? I'm not quite sure.

"That was his last ANBU mission, he quit after that," I say, breaking the strained silence.

"The one with Rin?" Asuma asks and I nod in response, "That wasn't that long ago," he continues.

"Not it wasn't," I confirm, "just a little over a year ago."

"He didn't really quit though," Asuma whispers with a hint of anger in his voice, "he still went on 'classified' missions. You still used him for ANBU missions even though he had quit the ANBU."

"I had no other choice; no one else could handle those missions. Kakashi was the only one and I knew he would go if I asked. Like I said before, he's the perfect shinobi; the one who will do what he is asked when he is asked, no matter what."

"You used him, for years you did nothing but use his abilities. You've never cared for him as a person," Asuma accuses me, his voice rising with anger, "You never really cared."

I blink back the tears that try to force themselves from my eyes, "I did Asuma, I did care but I can't save one life only to put thousands of other lives in danger."

"You cannot continue to put such a huge responsibility on Kakashi's shoulders. You have to learn to use other shinobis to replace the missions Kakashi takes for Kakashi won't live forever. One day he will not come back and what will happen then? Will you sit back and watch Konoha crumble or will you frantically try to deal with the huge hole in our defenses then? Either way it will be too late," Asuma lectures me, anger growing with every word he says.

"I told you, there is no one else."

"Who says only one other person has to replace Kakashi? Why not use multiple different shinobi to do what Kakashi does himself. It's the only way unless you're banking on Kakashi having a kid that will be just as much of a genius that he is. Which personally I don't think is ever going to happen."

"Do you think I never thought of that?" I reply, my own voice growing louder with anger, "I know the options just as well as you do! But what **I** know is what Kakashi has done, what missions he takes on with no resistant and no arguing! **No one** can take the place of Kakashi, not even a group of ten hundred shinobi could replace the service he gives this village!" I take a deep breath, and in a more calm voice continue, "If I handed you the same missions that I hand Kakashi you would refuse to take them, anyone with a sane mind would refuse them. They are repulsive, vile, emotionally crippling missions that destroy people. Kakashi takes them because he knows, as well as everyone else, that he's already screwed up and emotionally crippled."

"And because he doesn't want anyone else to turn into what he has become," my son finished for me and I nod.

Silence falls between us again but before long the door squeaks open and yet another shinobi enters, closing the door quietly behind him.

"I'm sorry for interrupting Sandaime," he says with a slight bow, "but I must know if the Chunin exam is going to continued as schedule in light of today's events for if it is then I need to continue preparations."

I look towards him and nod, "The Chunin exam shall continued as planned Ibiki. The more we continue on as normal the sooner the village shall move on from today's incident."

"Very well," Ibiki responds with another bow and then leaves quietly. The door closes with a click behind him.

We fall into silence again. I watch the rise and fall of Kakashi's chest as the tube they shoved down is throat and into his lungs keeps him breathing and keeps him alive. I know that if he doesn't wake-up soon that I will be forced to decide whether to pull the plug on the machines keeping him alive or hold on to my hope that he will miraculously wake-up on his own.

"In the end what was the total death count?" my son quietly asks.

I sigh, thinking back to what the doctor told me, "It wasn't as bad as we all thought," I begin, "only two shinobi died, but I believe over twenty were seriously injured and countless sustained minor injuries. Only three children have died so far, two girls and one boy, but over ten are in serious condition with seven of those children possibly dieing from their injuries in the future. Another six have minor injuries but all of them are going to be psychologically damaged. And the one mother is also dead."

"That really isn't that bad, I thought it was worse."

"It was because of you that it wasn't worse, you stopped him just as he was really beginning to lose all sense of reality. And for that I can't thank you enough. You saved countless lives today by stopping him. And for that I'm proud of you."

My son shrugs, "I did what I had to do, nothing more."

And with that he turns around and walks out of the small room, slightly slamming the door in anger, or maybe frustration, possibly even in a sense of helplessness; I don't really know.

I continue to watch the rise and fall of Kakashi's chest, knowing full well that at any moment it could stop. If his heart fails now then it doesn't matter if the machine forces him to breath, he'll still die. Every second is a blessing; every second of Kakashi's life is now a miracle.

For the first time I notice a lump of something brown at the end of Kakashi's hospital bed. I walk closer to the foot of the bed and take a better look at this offended lump only to notice that the lump has four legs, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and was sleeping quite contently.

"Pakkun," I whisper with a smile, "so it seems Kakashi won't be completely alone should I leave."

Pakkun turns his head slightly and opens one eye to look at me.

"So it comes to this, why am I not surprised?" I say, more to myself then to Pakkun.

"We all knew it was coming," Pakkun replies, "it was only a matter of time," he continues, closing his eye and burying is head in the folds of the blanket again.

I sigh, "I wish this could've been prevented."

"There's no point wishing to change the past," Pakkun mumbles into the blanket, just loud enough for me to hear, "you should leave, go see to the needs of the village. I'll watch over Kakashi and make sure he stays alive, at least, to the best of my ability."

My smile grows, "Very well," I walk to the door and open it, but before exiting I turn around and see that Pakkun has moved from the foot of the bed to lie down beside Kakashi, his head resting on the Kakashi's chest.

"At least he has always had you to find comfort in," I whisper to myself, knowing quite well that Pakkun can hear me, "for that I am grateful for."

I turn around and leave, quietly closing the door behind me

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I blink; staring at the white ceiling above me in confusion.

I'm not dead.

At least, I don't think I am. Unless Hell contains white hospital rooms, annoying, beeping, health-monitoring machines, and oxygen tubes shoved down people's throat; which I highly doubt.

I must stop trying to kill myself where I can easily be found, it kind of ruins the whole 'dieing' part of the suicide attempt.

"Welcome back. You had us all pretty scared there for a while," I hear a voice say and I lift my head up to stare into the eyes of Pakkun as he lies on my chest. No wonder it felt hard to breath, there's a dog lying on me.

I open my mouth to talk, only to remember I have a huge tube shoved down my throat and that talking is going to be impossible. So instead I settle for pushing myself up so that I'm in a sitting position, and Pakkun readjusts himself so that he's sitting on my lap. I look around the small room, petting Pakkun, and it hits me.

I'm really not dead.

I can feel the anger building up inside of me. How could they do this? How could they keep me alive when all I wanted was to die? Didn't they get the hint when I shoved that fucking sword into my stomach and ripped out my organs? What do they want? Next time I should just cut of my own head, then they can have fun trying to fix me after that!

I pull at the IV stuck in my hand until it comes out. Next I pull at the oxygen tube in my mouth, ripping it out of my throat. I cough as the tube comes out and when it finally does I start hacking, blood comes out and sprays onto the bed and all over Pakkun, who just sits on my lap staring at me.

"What are you planning on doing Kakashi? Two times you've tried to kill yourself in you lifetime, both times you've lived. Perhaps it is your fate to stay alive, perhaps you haven't done what you were put on this earth to do."

"Shut-up!" I yell at him, "Get the fuck out of my sight! It was **you** who went and told them what I was doing! It has to be! It was **you **the first time too. Maybe I should just kill you so that you'll stop interfering!"

I breathe heavily, my lungs unuse to breathing on their own and my throat feels raw from were I cut it ripping the tube out. I pull at the wires hooked up to me, the wires monitoring my health and they come off. The machines start beeping madly and it pisses me off.

"You're in a hospital Kakashi, whatever you try to do isn't going to work in a hospital. Don't make any rash decisions."

"Didn't I tell you to shut-up?" I growl.

"Before you go and kill yourself again you might want to know that your team passed the first two parts to the Chunin Exam but too many shinobi passed the second part so they had to hold a preliminary round for the third portion. Sasuke and Naruto passed the preliminary round while Sakura didn't. She ended up fighting Ino and the match was a draw."

I blink, "The Chunin Exam?" I mutter confused, my anger slipping away, "they still did the Chunin Exam?"

"Of course, you not so important that you stop all time when you fuck up. They continued the Chunin Exam. I believe they're about a week into the month long break before the third portion starts."

"They made it to the third part," I whisper, "they really have improved."

Pakkun shrugs, "You trained them well."

"I can't believe they still entered even after what I did."

And then the memories come flying back, that day replays in my head on fast-forward.

I remember everything.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**_/Flashback/_**

_I pull my mask up as I walk away from my apartment, following Sarutobi. Just keep on walking. One foot in front of the other. Stare at the ground and don't look up. Don't make eye contact, don't panic, don't freak out. Just keep on walking and keep on breathing._

_I watch the ground as it changes from a dirt road to cobblestone to the bricks of the bridge and finally to the pavement of the main roads in the main part of Konoha. I just focus on breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. Don't think about today, don't think about what today means to me. Pretend it's just a normal day and I'm going to a normal meeting with normal people and I'm feeling completely normal._

_"Come back here Mikoto!" I hear a woman yell and I look up to see a child running away from her mother._

_I look at the women who yelled. She looks so familiar. Her long black hair tied back in a braid, her brown eyes, and her long thick, black eyelashes, her small nose and full lips; they're all so familiar. Behind her stands a man, his wild, silver hair pulled is back into a ponytail and his black eyes pierce into me; ashamed and disappointed. _

_"Mother? Father?" I whisper, freezing on the spot._

_"Kakashi?" I hear someone faintly say but I don't pay attention. The joy of seeing my mother and father overwhelms me and I unconsciously block out everything else._

_Panic rises inside me as my mother's face becomes disfigured and bloody, her left arm fading away and her left shoulder begins to bleed where the skin, muscle, and bone has been torn from her body by some unseen force. She collapses as her neck begins to bleed from where it got sliced open and she's left to die. Her body collapses to the ground and she lays there, cold, limp, and dead._

_My eyes are pulled over to my father, who kneels on the ground, his stomach torn and ripped open. His organs twisted and destroyed and he silently coughs up blood._

_And I see myself, my child self standing there, sword in hand. Shaking and crying. I hear myself saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry father. I can't do it, I can't do," over and over again. _

_I collapse onto my knees, still staring at my child self and my parents. I cover my ears, trying to block out my own terrified voice but it just keeps repeating itself in my head. Echoing within my mind and torturing me. I shut my eyes, trying to block out the sight before me but I can't. It appears in my head, mocking me, showing me how I failed._

_If I hadn't become a shinobi my mother wouldn't have left on that dangerous mission and died. Then my father wouldn't have taken his last mission to take his mind off of mother and he wouldn't have fucked up and disgraced himself. I wouldn't have had to watch him kill himself._

_It's all my fault, everything was my fault._

_If I hadn't become a shinobi then Obito wouldn't have died trying to save me and Rin wouldn't have betrayed Konoha to get back at me for killing Obito. I wouldn't have had Yondaime as a sensei so his death wouldn't have affected me so much. _

_I wouldn't be this fucked up, I wouldn't cause this much stress on everyone else and they wouldn't be sacrificing their own lives to try and fix me._

_Everything that's wrong is wrong because of me, because I fucked up._

_Because I became a shinobi._

_"Mikoto get back here!" that women yells again and I open my eyes up to stare at her. _

_"Mikoto!"_

_Just shut the fuck up lady._

_"Kakashi!" I hear someone say but I don't even know if they're really saying me name or if I'm just delusional._

_I'm just fucked up, screwed up, delusional, and nothing but a burden on everyone I know._

_"Kakashi!"_

_"Mikoto!'_

_"Kakashi!"_

_"Kakashi!"_

_"Mikoto!"_

_"SHUT-UP!" I scream at everyone as I grab a kunai from the holster on my leg, "JUST SHUT-UP!" _

_I throw the kunai at that woman with the deadly accuracy that comes with being a genius. It pierces her throat and she falls to the ground, instantly dead._

_"KAKASHI!" I hear someone scream at me as they try to grab me but I jump away, landing a few feet away from that damned kid that women was screaming for._

_She stares at me and I stare at her. She just starts screaming and crying and going into hysterics and without even thinking I feel the chakra flowing to my right hand but before I can move to kill that annoying brat Gai quickly interferes; moving to stand protectively in front of the crying child._

_"Kakashi please stop this!" Someone yells at me but I don't care, I don't care about anything anymore._

_They think I'm fucked up, they think I'm some sort of monster. I'll show them fucked up; I'll show them a monster._

_Some small part of my brain screams at me to stop, to listen to them but I ignore it. I don't care about anyone anymore._

_Suddenly ANBU shinobi are circling around me, closing in on me, it's suffocating. I can tell by the way the people stand and their fighting positions who each person is. _

_I've work with every single one of these ANBUs. I smile, knowing full well that I can take on all of them. I'll show this fucking village what I can do, what I've been doing all these years to protect them. Screw them; I'm doing something for me now._

_The ANBUs move to attack me but I easily get pass them. My right hand, full of chakra, pierces through one's heart, and she dies instantly. I grab her sword and use it to stab another in the stomach as I pull my arm out of the first ANBU and she falls to the ground; dead. I pull the sword out of the second ANBU and use it to attack another one who's slightly more prepared and uses his own sword to block my attack. I smirk under my mask and use the leverage of the other's sword to summersault backwards and out of the circle of ANBU. I drop the sword, knowing it will only slow me down, and jump onto the roof._

_I'm going to have fun with this, I'm going to make them chase me around and helplessly watch me as I kill everyone I fucking want to._

_I'm Hatake Kakashi, the greatest shinobi in Konoha, and the most fucked up person in Konoha, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows that._

_I run; I run from roof to roof. A trail of ANBU following behind me. A group that gets bigger and bigger as time goes on and starts to fill with Jounin and Chunin as they add to the mission to stop me. I chuckle to myself. What are they going to do? Do they expect to stop me?_

_They can't stop me, no one can stop me but myself and I'm not stopping anytime soon._

_I run, and run, and run. Jumping from roof to roof and sometimes down to the ground and then back to the roofs. I get closer and closer to the edge of Konoha's city line and before I know it I'm on the ground crossing into the outer training fields._

_I jump into the trees and start running through the branches, leading these shinobi on in a race that everyone knows I'm going to win._

_I jump out of the trees and into a clearing, only to be face to face with Iruka and a bunch of little brats._

_"Kakashi?" he asks, looking me over._

_In a split second I focus my chakra into my right hand and shove it through his abdomen, my hand coming out the other side of his body. I smirk under my mask as his face twists from an expression of shock to an expression of pain._

_The kids start screaming and I can feel my anger growing even more. The shrilly voices of scared children have always pissed me off._

_The crowd of ANBU, Jounin, and Chunin land behind and I rip my arm out of Iruka's body and turn around to face the men and women I've led on this little race._

_"The fun ends here," I say with a smirk, "I'll show this village what a fucked up monster I really am. I'll show the children here what being a shinobi really means, what it really does to the mind."_

_"Kakashi please, stop this!" Kurenai pleads but I ignore her._

_The shinobi advanced forward, circling me in an attempt to gain an advantage. Obito's Sharingan fully activates and I give myself over to my genius instincts, not even caring if I make a mistake and get myself killed. I've really fucked up now and after today, if I live through this, I'm going to be sentenced to death anyways. For God's sake look what I've done and I don't even care. What have I become?_

_I don't know how long I stayed there fighting them and I don't know how many I killed or injured but I began to realize that my body is becoming too weak and starting to fail. I know I resorted to using the Raikiri too much, I know I've pushed my body too much today, I know that I'm too mentally exhausted to keep going for much longer. _

_Now that my anger has begun to subside and fade away I begin to question what I'm doing and why but I know I can't stop now. I can never stop in the middle of something. I don't know how many shinobi I've attacked or how many children I've killed. I've stopped focusing on what I was doing a long time ago and now I can't quite figure out why I'm doing this._

_I can't even quite remember what I've done._

_A kunai rips through my stomach and I feel my skin tearing, the veins bursting and my blooding spilling from me. I blink, my memories fleeing from my mind and I can't figure out what I did wrong or why I'm here. Bile rises in my throat as I struggle to get my bearings and asses the situation. Blinking, my blurry vision begins to clear and what I see shocks me._

_A kunai lays imbedded in a child's neck, no more than seven years old, her eyes staring up at me; pleading for help and asking me why. A hand clutches the bloody kunai, a gloved hand attached to a scarred arm, a scarred arm attached to my body._

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Kakashi? Kakashi? Hello? Kakashi!'

I blink; the sight of that girl fades away and Pakkun comes back into focus.

"Oh my God," I'm shaking, shaking and crying and I can't believe what I've done.

"Kakashi?" Pakkun asks, worry colouring his voice, "You zoned out for quite some time."

"I can't believe what I've done," I choke out, staring straight ahead of me, "What have I become?"

"Kakashi…" Pakkun whispers, realizing what I was talking about.

I push Pakkun off my lap and slowly get out of the bed. I grab my clothes folded on the chair beside my bed and change from the hospital gown into my pants. I go to put my shirt on and I see the stitches that cover my abdomen; the scars that are beginning to form.

Huge scars.

The tears come back in full force and I collapse to my knees, sobbing like a little child.

What the fuck have I become? What have I done?

I grab my shirt and put it on, feeling my stitches pulling on my skin with the sudden movements. Then I grab my mask and put it on, covering my identity. Not that it really matters since I don't even know who I am or who I'm hiding anymore. I use the bed to push myself up and I look around the room, noticing that Pakkun has disappeared. Most likely to go get someone to 'help' me again since he's so adamant on being my babysitter.

I slip my shoes on and quickly form a few seals. The room spins into a void of blackness but the memorial stone quickly comes into focus.

A pink-haired Genin stands staring at the memorial stone, her back to me but she twists her body around to look at me.

"Kakashi-sensei…" she whispers in shock and I take a step backwards.

She isn't supposed to be here, she isn't supposed to see me, not now, not ever.

"Kakashi-sensei…" she whispers again, turning her body fully around to face me. She takes a few steps forward and then runs towards me.

She hugs me, crying into my chest, murmuring, "I'm so glad you're okay," over and over again.

I can't believe she doesn't hate me; I can't believe she still thinks of me as her sensei. The fact she still cares for me shocks me.

I close my eyes as I slowly bring my right arm up to return her hug. A few tears escape from under my eyelids, but only a few.

What the fuck am I doing?

I push away from her and she stares up at me in shock.

"Kakashi-sensei?" she asks in confusion.

"You shouldn't talk to me ever again. I will only continue to hurt you if you continue to associate yourself with me," I say in a calm, almost robotic voice.

"But sensei…" she starts to protest but I shake my head.

"Trust me, it's for the best," I continue, trying to keep my voice from breaking, trying not to show her how much this is tearing me up inside.

"Sensei…" she tries again but I don't stick around.

I form those familiar seals yet again and she fades into a black void as my apartment comes into view. I stare at the mess that I call my home.

My eyes are drawn to the blood on the floor; my tainted blood and my father's broken sword.

I collapse onto my knees, my hands catching me before I fall face first. I just start sobbing and shaking and I can't control myself anymore. What have I become? What have I done?

Who am I? I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know what I'm hiding from or what I'm trying to protect myself from. I don't understand how I ended up here. I don't understand why I'm like this.

I crawl over to my kitchen, I can't trust my legs to carry me, and I fish through the cupboards. Pushing aside plates, pots, pans, cups, and food as I desperately try to find my escape; the one thing that can take this pain away without hurting anyone else. I go through cupboard after cupboard, the tears flowing from my eyes, the sobs choking my breath, and the panic rising inside of me. Why can't I find it? Where did I put?

Finally I find what I'm looking for; a small plastic container. I pull it out and take the lid off. I grab the spoon and a small bag. I dump the powder from the bag onto the spoon and then grab the lighter. With the spoon in one hand I use the other hand to turn the lighter on and place the flame under the spoon, melting the powder into a liquid. After the powder becomes a liquid I turn the lighter off and put it back into the plastic container, grabbing a syringe instead. I watch as my shaking hands fill the syringe up with the liquid. I put the spoon back in the container once all the liquid has been sucked into the syringe. I flick the syringe a couple of times to get the air out.

I push up the sleeve on my right arm and push the syringe into the vein in the crook of my elbow; the vein is easy to find in my pale and skinny arm. I push the liquid into my vein and then pull the syringe out, the high hits me immediately and I drop the syringe and it shatters on the tile floor.

I lean against the cupboards and relax into the glorious high, letting my worries fade away. I sigh with relief as the welcomed bliss of unconsciousness begins to creep into my mind.

I decide that when I wake up I'm going to a psychiatrist. But for now, I'm going to enjoy this one last high.

Why did I end up like this?


	4. Chapter Three

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 3:.:. I can't stop the tears. I can't stop the feelings of guilt that tear me up inside, the pain I've held in for so long. So many people I've killed, so much blood stains my hands. .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **None this time, EXCEPT, please review! Please! **/begs/** Please! Oh…and enjoy this chapter! Sorry it's short but it just felt like it should end here so it does. Oh, and I'm I the only one who can't stands the fact that doesn't upload the stories with indent. It makes me angry inside...I always indent the beginning of paragraphs and dialogue but when I upload the stories it doesn't process the indents. **/grrrr/**_

_Oh, and please excuse and grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Me not own Naruto, me not want to get sued. Thanks?_

_**2nd Author's Note:** This chapter has been re-upped to fix some spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes (mainly verb tenses and all that shit, I always screw those up), nothing too major but incase anyone is re-reading this chapter after all ready reading it you'll probably notice that some mistakes are gone. Nothing has been changed in terms of the plot or anything, just spelling and grammar mistakes where fixed, nothing more._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Kakashi," a woman whispers from beside me.

I keep on running; crashing through the underbrush of the thick forest.

"Kakashi," the same woman whispers into my other ear.

I stumble over a rotten log but manage to catch myself on a nearby tree. I keep on running; my breathing ragged and my strides uneven. The gash across my left thigh makes it painful and challenging to run.

Blood runs down the left side of my face from where that woman tried to remove my eye; or as she must still consider it, Obito's eye. The blood blurs my vision, causes me to stumble over obstructions I can't see.

"Kakashi," the cursed voice whispers again, echoing throughout the forest.

I just keep on running away; away from her, away from myself, away from my friends and my comrades, away from my responsibilities and most importantly; away from my past.

"Kakashi!" she screams, her voice now full of anger, frustration, and desperation, "Kakashi!"

I force a way through a thick wall of thorn bushes but I freeze, finding myself at the edge of a deep swamp.

"Kakashi," she murmurs, her voice coloured with hate and disappointment, "Kakashi-senpai."

Deep breaths stay calm and don't panic. I know I can't panic; it will be the death of me.

The water begins to churn, turning from a muddy dark green colour into a deep void of black. The water starts to rise and I find that I can't move to escape.

"Kakashi," she whispers in amusement at my predicament.

The water continues to rise; pass my knees, pass my stomach and my shoulders. Soon it flows right over my head. It's thick, thicker than what water should be. It's suffocating, but not completely. I can still breathe in little tiny gasps; too deep of breaths choke out any air.

The thick, black water washes the blood from my face and the vision in my left eye begins to clear but it still aches as it tries to heal. I find it odd that I can still see clearly through the water even though it is as black as a starless night.

"Kakashi," she murmurs into my right ear.

I spin around to face this mysterious woman and I find myself eye to eye, nose to nose, with her.

"Have you missed me?"

I gasp, stumbling backwards at the sight of this grotesque woman. Her body bloody and broken; her throat split, her left shoulder dislocated, a hole right through her chest where her heart should be. Blood soaks her clothes, her face bruised, her lip split and a deep gash bleeds above her right eye.

I trip over a rock and fall on the heard ground; gasping for air. The thick water still surrounds me and every deep breath, every desperate gasp for air, chokes me and clogs up my lungs. My chest burns more and more with every passing second and my brain screams in protest of my body; yelling for air, begging for air.

"Have you missed me?" she asks again, her voice pleading for an answer.

I stare at her, frozen in shock and horror, unable to answer her question.

"Have you missed me?" she repeats, her voice growing with anger at my resistance to answer, "Have you missed me?"

I nod, unable to force my voice out of my throat. Of course I missed her; I will never stop missing her.

"Why did you kill my Kakashi-senpai? Why?" she pleads, tears welling up in her eyes, "I didn't do anything to hurt you."

"I…I was ordered to. It was a mission," I choke out, still gasping for air under the thick water.

"Do you always do what you're told?" she bitterly asks, tears escaping from her eyes.

"I…it…well…when…uh…yes?" I stammer, the lack of oxygen making it hard for my brain to function properly.

"But why Kakashi? Why senpai? I was your teammate!" she yells in anger.

"You're a traitor!" I scream back, all feelings and thoughts overtaken by a strange, uncontrollable anger.

"I was your friend!"

"You betrayed Konoha! You betrayed me!"

I watch as she slowly walks towards me and grabs my hair, "I cared for you! I healed you and took care of you!" she screams, yanking me forward and I catch myself on my hands as my knees crash into the rocky ground.

She yanks my head up by my hair to force me to look at her. Pushing me back to sit on my heels.

"I thought we were friends," she chokes out, her anger fading into despair, "we cared for each other, protected each other, so why? Why did you kill me?"

"I had no choice, Sarutobi ordered me too, I had too," I plead, trying to make her understand my side; understand my reasoning.

"You don't have to do anything!" she screams at me, tears flowing freely from her eyes, "You're not a robot! You don't have to be a ruthless killing machine! So don't give me that bullshit!"

"I chose to do become a shinobi! I chose this job, this life! I **have** to do what I'm told!"

"You didn't choose anything!" she yells back, slapping me, "You just don't have the strength to say no or to make your own decisions! You're just a pathetic little child in an adult's body," she chokes out as tears steal her voice.

"I'm sorry," I force out of my raw throat, "I'm sorry, so very, very sorry. I wish I didn't have to, I wish I didn't…"

"Shut-up!" she screams, "You killed Obito! You killed me! You kill everyone you care about! You're nothing but a fucking monster! A MONSTER!"

I watch in horror as she pulls out a sword. **My** sword, my father's sword, the famed chakra sword of the Hatake clan. How did she get it and why is it not broken? I never got that sword fixed after it broke and it's never left my apartment since then. So how does she have it?

"You remember this sword, don't you?" she smirks as she pulls even harder on my hair to trap my head in place.

The thick, black water chains me to the ground and I find I can't escape from this woman. I can't escape from whatever fate she has planned for me.

"This sword has killed thousands of people; passed down from generation to generation. You broke the tradition, you stopped using the sword. Why? Was it too stained with blood for you too use? Can you not handle holding a weapon in your hands that has killed thousands upon thousands of people throughout hundreds and hundreds of years? It's kind of ironic that the killer is actually killing himself day after day, victim after victim; isn't it?"

I gulp, watching as she raises the sword with her left arm. The arm with the dislocated shoulder; the shoulder that seems to not be bothering her even though it should be. But then again, she does have a hole through her chest where her heart should be so being able to move her dislocated shoulder isn't really that odd.

"I'm taking back what was never yours to begin with and I'm giving it back to its true owner. I'm taking back what makes you famous, what makes you, **you**," she informs me with detest in her voice.

I watch in panic as the sword comes closer and close to my face, "Please," I plead, "please…Rin please, don't do this. I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

She just laughs; a sad, lonely, desperate laugh full of hate and anger.

"Please," I choke out, "Please Rin…don't."

"It's too late for redemption now Kakashi-senpai," she says, her voice cold and distant, "All my life I did what you told me. All my life it was either you or the Yondaime who got to be the leader, got to be the boss. You never deserved to hold anyone's life in your hands, yet that's what you did day after day. You were my leader, the captain; you held **my** life in **your** hands. You didn't deserve that, you still don't. I'm taking back my life now."

I stare; unblinking, unmoving, frozen in horror, shock, and fear as my sword comes closer and closer.

One inch.

Eleven centimeters.

Eight centimeters.

Six centimeters. Just breath, don't focus on the sword. Pretend this isn't happening.

Five centimeters. It won't hurt. I can't believe it's going to hurt or else it will hurt. Psyche myself out, that's what I have to do.

Three centimeters. Don't panic, I can't panic. Just breathe; deep breaths. Just breathe.

Two centimeters. I can feel the panic rising inside of me, even as I try to suppress it and ignore it. I try to escape, try to struggle, try to even move at all but I can't. My body won't budge; the black water gets thicker and thicker with every passing moment, feeding of my fear.

One centimeter. This can't be happening, this can't be real. She can't take the only reminder of my past away from me. She can't steal what is mine, she can't remove what defines me; what makes me, **me**.

Half a centimeter. I'm Hatake Kakashi, the famous copy-nin Kakashi, son of Sakumo; the famous White Fang of Konoha. I'm Hatake Kakashi and I can't do a fucking thing to save myself. I can never do anything to save myself.

My eyes try to close automatically to protect themselves but the black water won't even let me do that. I watch helplessly as my own sword pierces Obito's eye, my Sharingan.

I hear screaming echoing throughout the forest; blood-curling, pain-filled screaming. Screams of someone who is not only in terrible agony but who has also lost themselves; had their identity stolen and destroyed.

I don't know how long I stay here listening to that screaming, possibly a few seconds or possibly a few hours, before I realize that the screaming is coming from my own throat. It's my voice.

It's me screaming.

Eventually my vision begins to clear; I hadn't even noticed that it had gone blurry and gray in the first place. The thick, black water begins to reside.

She's gone but my sword lays on the ground in front of me, shattered into a million little pieces. As the water returned back into the swamp it takes my broken sword with it; forever to be lost in its black void.

My head hurts, aches with terrible pain behind my left, now empty, eye socket. I can feel the blood rushing out of my eye socket and flowing down the side of my face. I lean forward, catching myself on my hands, and I find relief in the simple fact that I have the freedom to move again.

I take slow, deep breaths, my lungs begin to relax now that I can breathe properly again. The blood from my eye socket drips slowly into a puddle on the forest floor. I watch as the red liquid mixes with the brown mud and creates a grotesque colour that makes me want to vomit. Or maybe that's the pain that makes me want to vomit; I'm not too sure.

The bloody mud gets thinner and thinner as another, clear liquid, joins the mix. I watch helplessly as my own tears of failure and desperation flow from my remaining right eye and land on the forest floor with the mud and the blood.

"Kakashi?" I hear a man whisper; a voice I know I should recognize, "Kakashi?"

I slowly raise my head and try to figure out where the sound is coming from but I can't place it. All sound just echoes throughout the forest and over the swamp, making direction and position impossible to place.

"Kakashi?" that voice whispers again, full of concern.

"Kakashi!" that cursed woman screams in anger as she appears out of no where right in font of me.

I watch as she swings her own sword and I close my eye; preparing for my death. I feel the sword beginning to cut into my neck.

And then nothing.

I slowly open my eyes. My eyes? Now I have two eyes again? I feel the confusion growing inside of me. What is going on?

"Kakashi?" that same, caring voice from before asks again, trying to get my attention.

I blink, forcing my eyes to focus on the world outside of my brain.

"Asuma?" I ask, not bothering to hide the confusion in my voice.

He smiles sadly, "You shouldn't have left the hospital."

"It was just a delusion," I mutter to myself with a small sigh of relief, "just a delusion."

"A delusion?" he asks, concern colouring his voice, "What was a delusion?"

"Rin," I continue muttering, ignoring his voice that I can barely understand anyways, "I killed Rin," I have to try and figure out what just happened, "I killed Rin, and Obito. My mother too, and my father. She took my eye, said it wasn't mine. Was going to give it back. Told me it was too late for redemption. She killed me, just like I killed so many others. Called me a monster. Said I was pathetic. Said I only end up killing everyone I care about."

"Kakashi," Asuma soothes, breaking me from my ramblings, "don't worry about it. It was just a delusion, probably from the drugs, nothing else."

"The drugs?" I whisper in confusion, "What drugs?"

Asuma sighs and slightly nods his head to his right, my left. I turn my head to the left and see the shattered syringe and the remains of some sort of drug I took. What it was I can't remember and there's none left to tell me."

"Kakashi?" my almost-friend asks after a few minutes of silence.

"I miss them," I choke out, feeling the tears building up in my eyes, "I miss them all, every one of them."

"I know Kakashi," Asuma replies and I turn my head to meet his sad, yet caring, eyes.

"I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to turn into this. I didn't want to hurt anyone," I whisper, my voice shaking with both physical and emotional exhaustion.

"I know," Asuma replies with a sad smile, "I know."

I stare into his eyes; searching for the anger, resentment, disappointment, and hate that I expect to find. But instead I only find sadness, helplessness, frustration, and concern.

"Oh my God," I mutter as a memory comes flooding back to me so strongly it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. The guilt overwhelms me and the tears begin to slowly flow down my face and into my mask, "Oh my God."

"Kakashi? What is it?" Asuma asks, his voice rising with panic.

"Iruka! Please…" I plead, "please…please," I burry my head in my hands, the tears flowing in torrents, unstoppable, uncontrollable, "Iruka…Naruto's going…kill…I…please, I'm sorry…please…Iruka…"

"Kakashi," I faintly hear Asuma say but I ignore him, caught up in my own guilty.

"Kakashi!" he screams, trying to get my attention but yet I still ignore him.

"Please…Asuma…did he? Iruka…what? Please," I ramble on, no longer caring if I make sense or not.

"Kakashi," I hear Asuma whisper into my ear as he wraps his arms around me; trying to comfort me, trying to calm me, "Iruka isn't dead, he's fine. He's healed now, back working. You don't have to worry about him, it's fine now, it's over."

Relief. I feel so relieved.

But I can't stop the tears. I can't stop the feelings of guilt that tear me up inside, the pain I've held in for so long. So many people I've killed, so much blood stains my hands.

A part of my brain is screaming at me, angry that I'm being so weak. Angry that I'm crying into the shoulder of my almost-friend. Angry that I've lost all self-control. Angry that my mask has broken. Angry that I don't care anymore.

I'm tired of hiding, tired of pretending and faking and trying to make everyone believe I'm alright when I'm not.

I'm not even close.


	5. Chapter Four

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 4:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **Yes, that's right. I've updated two chapters to this story in two consecutive days. It's a record for me, a freaking record. Such an amazing record that I think it deserves a whole bunch of reviews, don't you agree? Also, this is the longest chapter in my fanfiction writing history! Yes, that's right. Out of all my stories this one has the longest chapter so far. That **so** deserves reviews, don't you think? J_

_Oh, and please excuse and grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Pakkun," I faintly hear Asuma whisper but I'm not paying attention to him.

The tears still flow freely from my eyes; I'm powerless to stop them. I'm still sitting here sobbing into Asuma's shoulder, trying to gain control over myself, control I know I no longer have.

"Can you please go tell Sarutobi that I'm with Kakashi, that I'm taking care of him and that he's going to be staying at my place for the time being?"

I can't believe I've fallen this low. I can't believe I'm just sitting here letting someone else take care of me.

Yet a small part of me is incredibly relieved that I don't have to deal with this by myself anymore, that I don't have to be alone anymore.

"Kakashi," Asuma whispers into my ear with a hint of playfulness in his voice, "you stink."

I smile underneath my mask and pull away from Asuma.

Wiping the tears away I reply, "I didn't notice."

"They say you can't smell your own scent," Asuma continues, pushing himself up to a standing position and holding his hand out for me, "Let's get you into the shower."

I take hold of his hand and he pulls me up. I stumble, my legs stiff and sore from sitting for so long against the cupboards.

"I'll make something to eat while you're cleaning up," Asuma informs me, pushing me into the bathroom and closing the door.

"Have fun trying to find any unspoiled food," I mutter to myself, unsure if Asuma hears me or not.

I undress, step into the shower and turn the hot water on. The water burns my skin as it washes me clean. I lose track of time as I just stand there, slowly washing my hair and my body, letting my mind go blank. The water slowly gets colder and colder but I welcome the change. The cold helps freeze my mind and stop all thought. I could stay here forever.

"Kakashi!" Asuma screams, snapping me back to reality.

I blink; finding myself on my knees on the shower floor. How? When? I don't remember what happened.

"Kakashi?" Asuma asks in concern, "You've been in the shower for forty minutes. I called your name four times and you didn't respond. What's wrong?"

I stare at the porcelain floor, cracked and dirty, "Nothing," I mutter, "I'm fine."

Asuma sighs beside me before throwing me a towel, "I put fresh clothes on the counter but watch out for the broken glass."

"Broken glass?" I ask, turning my head to stare at Asuma with questioning eyes as I begin drying my hair.

"From before," Asuma replies, "no one's cleaned up this place yet. No one wants to mess with you or your house so it's stayed as it was. Broken glass, blood and all."

"Oh," was all I could say in response, still trying to get my bearings.

I watch as Asuma walks out of the bathroom and closes the door. Slowly I stand up and finish drying off. I step out of the shower and carefully make my way to the counter where my clothes are. I get dressed.

Shattered glass. It can cut, cut like a kunai if it's broken the right way. I bend down and pick up a rather big piece of broken glass. The edges cut my fingers. Good, it's a sharp piece.

I push up my left sleeve, the glass carefully held in my right hand, and I drag it from the crook of my elbow to my wrist. I don't place enough pressure on it to break skin but it does leave a slight red mark.

I stare at my arm, carefully tracing old criss-crossing scars with the glass. Again, I don't place enough pressure on the glass to break skin but red marks still remain.

I once again place the glass on the crook of my elbow. I place more pressure this time and slowly drag it down my arm. I watch as blood begins to seep out of my skin and trace paths down the side of my arm, slowly dripping on to the bathroom floor. The glass cuts through old scars as it ever so slowly makes its way to my wrist. It reaches its destination and I lift it up, bringing it back to the beginning where I place beside the new cut. Slowly I begin to drag the glass down my arm again, parallel to the previous path it took.

I feel all my anxiety, my frustration and fear, all my confusion and all my panic seep out of my body along with the blood. Watching the slow path of the glass calms me, steadies my rapidly beating heart and slows down my thoughts; brings my brain to a frozen stand-still devoid of all thought and meaning.

"Kakashi!" Asuma shouts from somewhere in my apartment. His voice sounds faded and fuzzy, I don't quite comprehend who he's talking to. Is it me?

"Kakashi!" the same voice shouts again and I hear the turning of a doorknob, "For God's sake, how long does it take you to get dressed?"

The door squeaks open and I raise my eyes from the piece of glass, which has made its way half way down my arm, to meet his eyes. I watch as his eyes shift from my eyes to my arm, and back to my eyes.

With no sound, no words of harsh judgment or disappointment, he walks towards me and grabs my hand, now soaked with blood from my self-induced injuries, and carefully takes the glass out of my other hand. I watch, with no attempt to resist or fight back, as he places the bloody glass on the counter.

He turns around, his left hand still holding on to my left hand, and leads me to the kitchen where he sits me down in the chair; he sets my left arm on the top of the table.

I feel dislocated from this world, like this isn't really happening, like it's all a dream and I don't have to worry about it because it's not real.

But it is. Some part of my brain keeps telling me that this is real. That this **is** what I've become.

"Eat the soup," Asuma tells me with a smile, "but don't move you're left arm. Keep it still, okay?"

I nod, unable to find my voice to answer him. I pick up the spoon and stare at the steaming bowl. Chicken noodle soup.

My mom used to give me chicken noodle soup when I was sick. That and Ginger Ale. It was the only time I was ever allowed to drink Ginger Ale.

Funny. I could only drink pop, an unhealthy beverage, when I was sick.

Funny. I still eat chicken noodle soup and I still drink Ginger Ale when I'm sick.

I guess how I am now, what I've become, could fall into the category of 'sick'.

Asuma returns from wherever he went and sits down in a chair beside me. I turn my head to watch him. He sets down a bowl of water, a cloth, and a medical kit on the table.

"You haven't even touched the soup yet," Asuma informs me, "I didn't make it just for you to stare at it."

I nod, still unable to find my voice. I return my gaze to the bowl of soup but its smell, its sight, everything about it just makes me feel nauseated. I grimace, unprepared for the stinging sensation that reaches my nerves as Asuma carefully washes my arm clean of blood and dirt.

"I'm not hungry," I say, my voice harsh and raspy.

"You're not hungry because you've been starving yourself for months," Asuma replies with a sigh, "You know, they had to give you far more nutrients than an average person when you where in the hospital because you were so malnourished."

"Really?" I ask, turning my head to look at Asuma, "That's not good."

"No it's not," Asuma replies, raising his gaze to look at me, frowning in what I believe is concern. But I can't be positive.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

I realize I've completely stopped trying to hide the emotions, mostly confusion, in my voice now.

"Nothing," Asuma says with a shake of his head, "Just eat, at least a little bit, okay?"

I nod, returning my gaze to the bowl. I slowly start eating it. The texture is disgusting; rough and thick. Like glue in my throat.

I gag and my body starts coughing, trying desperately to dispel this food, what it perceives as poison, from my body.

My body shakes, coughing and heaving, throwing a fit at me for trying to feed it.

Some part of my brain is screaming at me, trying to tell me that this isn't normal. That no matter how long I've gone without food my body shouldn't be rejecting it this badly. But I don't really care, I don't really pay attention.

Finally the heaving begins to subside and I open my eyes, which I don't remember closing, to find myself hugging my stomach and Asuma patting my back soothingly. Trying to calm my body and stop the coughing.

I take deep breaths, welcoming the air into my lungs. I can taste bile in my mouth and I realize that the small amount of soup that did manage to make its way down my throat had come right back up, and back into the bowl of chicken noodle soup.

Asuma removes his hand once the coughing completely stops.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, staring at the bowl of now-ruined soup, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Asuma replies with a hint of concern in his voice, "you can't control what you're body does in situations like these."

"I can't believe I can't even eat anymore," I muttering.

The feeling of guilt, failure, and panic overwhelms. What kind of person am I now? I can't believe I've fucked over my body this much. I can't even eat anymore.

"Kakashi, you've just woken up from a coma yesterday. You haven't eaten a real meal in God knows how long and you've been feed through a feeding tube and had nutrients pumped into you through an IV for the last week or so. It's perfectly normal to not be able to eat right away," my friend says, trying to calm me down.

"Not soup," I continue muttering, "I should be able to eat soup. For fuck sakes you don't even have to chew it. Soups a liquid. How can I not be able to swallow a liquid?"

"Kakashi," Asuma states with a little more force, a little more demand for attention, "don't worry about it. You're body doesn't want soup so don't give it soup. We'll go to the store later and pick up some nutrient shakes that you can have to get you use to food again, okay?"

I nod, dragging my eyes from the soup to my friend, "Okay," I reply with a small smile.

"Now then, let's see your arm again."

I nod again, lifting my left arm and setting it back on the table. I stare at my arm, biting my bottom lip, as Asuma cleans it, disinfects it, and stitches it up. He doesn't say anything and I don't trust myself to start a conversation.

"Doesn't look like you have any bandages left," Asuma mutters to himself, "Oh well," he continues, bringing his gaze to focus on me, "as long as you keep it clean it should be fine without bandages. Do you think you can do that?"

"Probably," I reply with a smile, "At least, I can try."

"Well, some effort on your part is all I can ask for."

Asuma stands up, "Now let's go to store, shall we?"

I nod, following Asuma's lead and standing up too. Asuma looks at me, his eyes sweeping up and down my body.

"For God's sake," he exclaims with a hint of amusement, "can you not keep your clothes clean for even a few minutes?"

I look at him in confusion and then drop my gaze to look at my clothes. My shirt is soaked with blood from when I clutched my stomach as I was heaving.

"I'll go get another shirt," I say, looking up and smiling at Asuma.

"Grab some extra clothes while you're there," Asuma tells me and I look at him quizzically, "To change into when you stay at my place," he informs me.

"Stay at your place?" I ask, "Since when am I staying at your place?"

"Since I said so," Asuma replies with an even broader smile, "Don't say no because you and I both know that you can't be alone right now."

"Fine," I reply with mock anger, "I guess I'll stay at your place."

I carefully make my way over to my bedroom, picking a path through the dirty clothes, sake bottle, and God knows what else. For some reason I feel happier all of the sudden, less guilt-ridden, more relaxed. I don't know what brought upon this change of mood but I'm not complaining. It's been months since I've felt even remotely happy but now I do, and it's a relief.

I open the door and walk over to my dresser where I open the top drawer and pull out a few pairs of underwear, I open the second drawer and pull out a few pairs of pants, and finally I open the third drawer and pull out some shirts and a couple spare masks. I set the clothes on the top of the dresser and pull off my bloody shirt, tossing it to the side, and then I put on another, clean shirt. I walk over to the edge of my bed and grab my Jounin vest, slipping it on and zipping it up.

I catch my reflection in my full-length mirror, the mirror Gai gave to me years ago for reasons I still haven't quite discovered. I don't need a full-length mirror, I rarely use it and I can't figure out why I still have it.

I stare at myself and I realize that I am far too thin; sickly thin. The medium sized shirts I own hang off of me now, they use to fit just perfectly. My medium sized pants are too big too.

Even my Jounin vest no longer fits properly.

I sigh, my eyes scanning the reflection in the mirror; the reflection doesn't even look like me anymore. I'm drawn to my face, the exact replica of my father's. I look just like he did in his last days of life; from the sickly thinness, the dark bangs under the eyes, the pale skin, to the droopiness of my eyelids and the lifeless look in my eyes.

I pull up my mask, hiding my identity from the world like I always have. The identity that I can't even identify anymore.

I sigh, walking over to my closet and opening the door. I grab my small duffel bag and walk back over to my dresser; I don't even bother closing the closet door. I pack the clothes I took out earlier into the duffel back.

"Asuma!" I shout, trying to get his attention.

"Yes?" he replies.

"Can you get my toothbrush from the bathroom?" I ask, lowering my voice a bit, but still keeping it above the normal indoor level.

"Fine!" Asuma answers with an air of mock annoyance. I smile to myself.

I crouch down and open the second to last drawer in my dresser and pull out a container of prescription medication. An old prescription of sleeping aids, they always made me drowsy during the day and I couldn't focus on my missions so I stopped taking them.

I never could sleep more than two hours a night without them.

I stare at the container, trying to decide if I should take them with me or not.

I put them in my bag, why not? If I don't need them I won't use them.

I stand up and turn around to leave, my eye catches a reflection of light from my closet and I turn my head to see what distracted me.

I stare, frozen in shock. The duffel bag slips slowly from my grasp and lands with a thud on the wooden floor. I try to move, try to run away, try to escape but I can't. I'm trapped where I am by some unseen force. Fear maybe? I'm not sure.

Red eyes with slitted pupils stare at me from the shadows of my closet; eyes full of anger, hate, hurt, resentment, and disappointment.

Slowly the hidden person drags himself out of the dark shadows. I stare at him, his body bruised and broken; his blond hair matted with blood. His long fingernails claw at the wooden floor, scratching its surface as he drags his body out of the closet. I gasp, my eyes widening in horror as he pulls himself out from the dark shadows.

His legs have been torn from his body.

He drags himself towards me, fingernails scratching on the wooden floor, staring at me with such overwhelming hatred; he stops at my feet.

"Why didn't you protect me?" he gurgles out, blood dripping from his mouth, "You always said you'd protect us to the end, even to your own death."

He coughs, blood splattering on my legs, my feet, and the floor.

"Naruto?" I whisper, barely able to recognize the young boy in front of me.

I drop down to my knees so I'm at his level, "What happened?" I choke out, "Who did this? I'm going to kill whoever did this to you!"

"You did this," he replies in a low whisper, his voice full of rage, hate, and disappointment, "You did this too me."

I stare into his eyes, my brain freezes in shock, "I couldn't have…" I mutter, "I would never…I would never hurt you…I promised to never hurt you…I couldn't have…"

"You didn't come to my aid," he continues in the same hate-filled whisper, "You were supposed to be the leader in the mission. You always said that teammates come before the mission!"

"They do," I whisper, tears flowing freely from my eyes, "they do…"

"You killed us all to save the mission!" Naruto screams at me, "Even with my Kyuubi I couldn't save them! We three DIED because of YOUR SELFISHNESS! Because or YOUR need to complete EVERY FUCKING MISSION!"

His body starts coughing uncontrollably and I just sit there in shock as his blood splatters all over my face and chest.

A hand grabs my right shoulder and I turn my head around, staring into the face of my former sensei. He pulls on my shoulder with his left hand, twisting my body around so I face him.

He backhands me, "Did you learn nothing from me? Nothing from Obito's death? Have you learnt absolutely nothing about being a real shinobi? About teamwork?" he whispers, despair colouring his voice as his eyes become wet and glossy with unshed tears, "I had such high hopes for you Kakashi. I believed so much in you. Yet in the end you still let me down, you're still nothing but a disappointment, a failure. To think I died protecting people of your like, with your thought process, it's despicable."

"Sensei…" I choke out, unable to believe the words I'm hearing, "I didn't…it has to be a mistake…I would never let them die…never…"

He just shakes his head, "Don't lie Kakashi, everyone knows the truth of what happened. You have great skill and great technique but you are a horrible person who cares for no one but yourself. You shouldn't be a shinobi."

I can see the disappointment in his eyes, in the way he stands; even the way he breaths.

"But sensei…" I try to reason, "I swear I didn't…I know I would never…"

"DON'T LIE!" he screams in anger, backhanding me again, "Look at him! Look at Naruto! Look at your subordinate!"

He falls down to his knees, cups his left hand under my chin, and forces my head to turn towards Naruto; forces me to look at Naruto's broken body.

"Look at him!" Yondaime screams, "You can't lie when the proof is right there for all to see!"

I stare at Naruto; his head now lies on the wooden floor, blood slowing seeping from his mouth. His eyes wide open, frozen in their red Kyuubi state; frozen in death.

I just stare, my breathing ragged with grief as the reality sinks in.

"I…I can't believe…how could I? Why…why?" I mutter, sobs choking my voice.

"Your father might have died a disgrace Kakashi, but you will die a selfish failure."

I turn my head to stare into Yondaime's eyes, so full of sadness and anger.

"I'm sorry…please…I didn't mean to…I…I'm sorry…please sensei…please forgive me," I choke out, "Please…don't abandon me…don't leave me…please sensei…please. I'll do anything…I'm sorry…don't leave me alone…please!"

"You should've thought about the consequences before you left them to die, Hatake Kakashi," he bitterly snaps at me, "You deserve to be abandoned now, you deserve isolation and loneliness."

"Then just kill me," I plead, "Please, I'd rather be dead then alone again. Please sensei…please…"

"You don't deserve death; you don't deserve to be free from your guilt. You must pay for your mistakes, pay for your flaws and your failures."

"You will just leave me here to suffer? Leave me here to wither away to nothing? Leave me here to tear apart my own soul?" I ask, tears flowing with even more force now.

"It is not what I wish to do," he answers with a hint of guilt in his own voice, "but you leave me with no choice now."

"Please…please Arashi(1)-sensei…please…"

"Kakashi!" I hear someone scream in panic and concern; someone whose voice I know I should recognize.

"Kakashi!" that person screams again.

I blink, the sight of Naruto and Yondaime disappearing and the sight of another man kneeling before me, both hands on my shoulders as he desperately tries to get my attention.

I pull away from him, pushing myself backwards and into a standing position. My vision is blurry from my own tears and it makes it hard to see what I'm doing.

"Kakashi!" he screams again, standing up and grabbing my right arm with his left hand and forcing me to stop.

"Let me go!" I half scream, half sob, "Leave me alone!"

"Kakashi! Look at me! Focus!"

Finally that voice clicks in my head. It's Asuma.

I try to pull my arm out of his grasp but I can't; he's too strong, or I'm too weak, I don't know.

"Let me go!" I scream again, helplessly pulling my arm away in a failing attempt to escape his grasp.

He yanks me back towards him and wraps his arms around my abdomen from behind. I struggle to get away from him even though I know it's useless, "Please…let me go," I plead, "please."

"Calm down, it's okay. Just breathe," he soothes, "just breathe."

I feel the energy drain from my body and my legs go numb. Unable to hold up my own weight I lean back against my friend and he slowly kneels down, setting me on the ground on my own knees. He slides himself around so he's kneeling in front of me and places his right hand on my left shoulder. I turn my head to stare at his hand on my shoulder.

"Kakashi, what happened? What's wrong?" he asks; his caring voice full of concern.

I just stare at his hand, unable to find my voice between the sobs I'm trying to suppress.

"Kakashi?" he gently probes, "Was it another delusion?"

"I killed them," I murmur, "Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura. I…I killed them…I left them to die…left them to complete the mission. I'm so sorry…please…I didn't think…couldn't have…didn't know…didn't want to…please, please…forgive me…don't leave me alone. Kill me instead…please…I'd rather die…"

"Kaka…"

"Sensei," I interrupt Asuma, not even listening to him, "sensei…he was disappointed…left me…said I had to face the consequences…alone…left me…all alone…he wouldn't forgive…I didn't mean to…I swear…I couldn't have…I couldn't…" my ramblings stop as my voice cracks into uncontrollable sobbing. Again.

"Kakashi," Asuma whispers, sadness and grief visible in his own voice, "Kakashi, please, listen to me."

"I did it," I manage to choke out, "Naruto was there, bloody and broken, his legs were ripped right off of his body!" I scream, anger at my own failure turning into rage, "He was right there! Dieing! Dead! His blood on my body! On my hands!"

"Kakashi!" Asuma screams at me, cupping his left hand under my chin and turning my head to face him.

Just like sensei did. Did I fail Asuma too? What have I done to hurt Asuma?

"Listen to me. What you just saw, what just happened with Yondaime and your team was a delusion. It didn't actually occur. You're brain is still suffering from shock over everything that's been happening over the last couple of weeks. It's trying to rebuild memories that aren't there and it's doing a horrible job. No one on your team is dead. Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura are all fine, they're all alive. You didn't abandon them nor did you leave them to die. Don't believe the lies of your brain."

I stare at him, relief slowly overtaking the rage inside of me, "Really? You promise you're not lying?" I whisper, afraid of the answer I will get.

"I promise, it's not a lie," Asuma replies, "Remember logic Kakashi. If it seems illogical than it's probably a delusion."

"Illogical?" I whisper, "How do I know?"

"For example," he replies, "if Yondaime is talking to you then that's illogical and therefore a delusion."

"Why would it be illogical?" I ask, confused.

"Because Yondaime is dead Kakashi," Asuma answers with a concerned frown, "Do you understand?"

I nod even though I don't really understand that much, maybe a little.

"But it's so real," I mutter.

"Remember, your brain is trying to fill in gaps of missing memory or replace memories with less painful memories. Therefore, to your brain it all seems real. It's like a genjutsu that your brain places on itself. Does that make more sense?"

I nod, "Yes."

"Good," he replies, "now, do think you're up to going to the store and getting some food you can eat for later?"

I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. Asuma stands up and offers his hand to me, which I gladly take and he pulls me up. I reach for my duffel bag and pick it up. My eyes catch a reflection from my closet and I do a double take to figure out what distracted me.

Red eyes with slitted pupils stare up at me from within the shadows.

"Kakashi?" Asuma asks in concern, shaking my shoulder, "Kakashi?"

The eyes fade back into the shadows and I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I walk over to the closet and close the door. Before it shuts completely I see the object that's been distracting me.

The picture of Team Seven.

"Let's get out of here," I say, looking up and smiling at Asuma.

He smiles back at me, "Sure," he replies, "but you might want these."

He tosses me my toothbrush and my forehead protector and I catch them in my left hand; realizing for the first time that I've been walking around with my Sharingan completely uncovered and draining my Chakra.

"Thanks," I reply, dropping the toothbrush in my bag and zipping it up.

I use my left hand to slip the forehead protector on and pull it down, over my left eye.

The Sharingan throbs in protest, now used to being uncovered it rather dislikes being covered up again.

"Asuma," I whisper, turning my head to look at his retreating form.

He turns around to face me, "Yes?"

"Thanks…for everything," I whisper, "Really, thanks."

He smiles, "Well, this is what friends are for, isn't it?"

I return his smile.

I truly am grateful for his friendship. With his help, along with everyone else's, I might just be able to pull myself out of this hole I've dug for myself.

Just maybe.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"What flavour do you want?" Asuma asks me as he stares at the meal-replacement shakes on the shelf.

"It doesn't matter," I respond, "They all probably taste like shit anyways."

"Come on Kakashi, make a decision. There's chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, blueberry, raspberry, orange, and plain."

"Just get a couple of each kind."

"That many?" Asuma asks, "Do we need a couple of each. And you want plain? That can't taste good at all."

"I'm quite sure I need **that** many Asuma. I'll probably have more than one a day. And like I said before, they probably all taste like shit no matter what flavour they label them with."

"Fine," Asuma mutters, "Have it you way. Don't complain to me when you have one you don't like."

I just shake my head, "Are you always so indecisive when buying food?" I ask chuckling a little.

"Are you always so uncaring about what you put into your body?" Asuma retorts. I can tell he's starting to get annoyed with me, and maybe a little angry.

"Hey, you don't need to go and get all angry now," I say with a smile, "It's just nutrient shakes. If you can't deal with how I handle the food I buy then we're going to have a terrible time trying to live in the same apartment."

"Well, at least if I get sick of you I can just stay at Kurenai's and you can stay at my place, alone," he teases me.

"I thought you said you'd never leave me alone?" I say, faking sadness.

"I **implied** I would never leave you alone. I never said it so I don't actually have to act on it," Asuma replies with a chuckle, "See. I can be smart at times."

"Yes, of course you can," I say, rolling my visible eye.

"You just rolled your eye at me, didn't you?" Asuma mutters under his breath.

I laugh, "You know me too well Asuma," I reply, "Now how long are you going to take to get a couple of each flavour of those shakes in the basket? Or do I have to do it for you?"

"Shut-up," Asuma fake snaps, turning around to face me, "I can load shakes into a shopping basket just as well as you can! I bet you I can even do it better!"

"Please tell me you're not becoming like Gai and making this into a crazy challenge," I plead, a smile playing on my lips, "Because I really don't need another Gai to deal with."

Asuma chuckles, "Don't worry Kakashi, I would never become like…"

"Naruto you cannot possible tell me that all you ever eat is Ramen," a familiar voice from the aisle over interrupts Asuma.

"Jiraiya?" we both question at the same time.

"Jiraiya is shopping with Naruto?" I question, "He must really see Yondaime in him."

"Or himself," Asuma adds.

I nod, "Well I don't know about you but I personally do not want to have to deal with seeing Naruto for the first time right now."

"I agree, let's pay for these and get out of here. We can come back tomorrow to get food for me since I am definitely not going to be drinking this shakes."

I nod and we both start walking down the aisle.

"Mother," I hear a young girl, no more than 6 years old, whisper from behind me, at the far end of the aisle, "Isn't that man with the mask the man that killed San?"

I freeze, my former happiness stolen by the grief and guilt that begins to suffocate me.

"Kakashi," Asuma whispers and I know he heard what I did, "Let's just go."

"Yes sweetie, I believe it is. At least, from what I've been told," the mother whispers, clearly angry.

I hear the running of small, uncoordinated feet and I stand still, unable to move, unable to leave, unable to escape the guilt that slowly eats away at me.

"Kakashi," Asuma whispers urgently, "Let's go."

"No," I reply, my voice shaking slightly, "I need to face this."

"Kakashi?" Asuma questions in concern, "It's too soon, you know it is."

"Shut-up," I growl.

"Keiko!" the mother yells angrily, "Come back here!"

The girl runs into the back of my legs and wraps her small arms around them, clinging desperately to me.

"Bring him back!" her shrill voice screams as sobs break her words apart, "Please! Bring him back!"

My fists clench together as rage towards myself grows inside of me. This is what I've done; this is the pain I've caused for no reason but my own immature selfishness.

"You killed him!" she continues screaming, "You killed him so bring him back! Please! I'll do anything! Please! Just bring him back!"

Her tiny hands cling to my pants, desperately trying to stick to me until I give her back what I can't possible give back.

Asuma takes a step towards me; staring at the little girl and at me at the same time.

"Don't snap, don't hurt her," he whispers to me.

My head snaps to the side to stare at him, "Do you think I would do such a thing again?" I angrily mutter.

He just ignores me and I turn my head back to face forward, trying desperately to block out the little girls grief-filled sobs.

"Please! Bring him back! Please!" she wails on and on and on.

Jiraiya and Naruto come to investigate the noise, walking into the aisle right in front of me. The both just stare at me, Jiraiya's eyes sympathetic while Naruto's are just full of anger.

The mother grabs her daughter and pries her from me. She walks to stand in front of me, glaring into my eye. She holds her daughter protectively behind her.

"You're a fucking bastard," she whispers, her voice full of hatred, "What makes you think you can just walk around freely after what you did? You should be locked up forever!"

She slaps me. My head snaps to the right and I stare into the eyes of Asuma. I can't read the emotions in them; there's too many to decipher through. Slowly I turn my head to stare into this woman's eyes again.

So full of rage, hatred, and grief. I did this to her. She will forever be in pain because of me, because I failed to keep myself under control.

"Do you not care?" she growls at me, "Does this not matter to you?"

I just stare at her.

"What do you want me to say?" I reply, my voice shaking as I try to keep my emotions in check, "Whatever words I say will not comfort you, whatever actions I take will not bring your son back to life. I could beg for your forgiveness and you would not give it to me. I could tell you I'm sorry but you would not believe me. Nothing I say will give you what you want so I choose to say nothing instead."

"That's you saying nothing?" she asks with a chuckle, "You are quite the guy. Thinking you're all high and mighty and that you can just walk around and joke around with your friend like nothing even happened!"

"Miss," Jiraiya interrupts, walking towards her, "What do you intend to accomplish from this?"

"To see emotion from this man! To see that he is upset at what he did! To see that he fucking cares!" she exclaims, no longer bothering to hide her words from her daughter.

"Do you want him to cry? Do you want him to become distraught and break down in front of you?" Jiraiya questions, now standing beside her, "Because if that is what you want then realize that it will not happen. Instead, take comfort in the fact that behind closed doors this shinobi is suffering more than you could ever imagine."

"Suffering?" she laughs, "Suffering? Look at him! He doesn't give a fuck about what he did, he doesn't care at all!"

"That is not true," I whisper, feeling my control slowly slipping away from me, "I am sorry for what I did but I will not ask for your forgiveness. I know just as well as everyone else in Konoha that I do not deserve forgiveness for what I did."

"Is that supposed to comfort me? Is that suppose to make me feel better?" she exclaims in anger.

"You have to live with the grief of losing your son," I continue, my voice breaking more and more with every word, "I have to live with the guilt of killing two shinobi and three children, and seriously wounded many others, for absolutely no reason except my own selfish grief and my attempt to escape it."

My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists even tighter, desperately trying to ease my emotional pain with physical pain.

"Kaka…"

"I know what I did was wrong," I interrupt Asuma, "I also know that everything I've done in my life is considered wrong. When you have lived in my shoes, when you have seen what I've seen, only then can you make judgments on my actions. Only then can you tell me what I should and shouldn't feel; what emotions I should and shouldn't show others. My pain is my own and it will stay my own. Perhaps crying in front of you, perhaps begging for your forgiveness, **is** the right thing to do. But I've never lived my life doing the right thing so why should I bother to start now?"

"Your pain is your own? What pain? You've never had to face any consequences for anything you've ever done! You've never had to make a single sacrifice for this village! You just get everything handed to you on a silver platter! A spoiled little brat!" she half screams, half sobs, "I had to sacrifice my husband, a worthy shinobi, for this village. And now you dare take my son from me? You ungrateful, spoiled little bastard!"

"Everyday I kill someone that is dangerous to this village," I whisper, "Do you shed a tear for that person? No. Do I? Yes. Every single person I kill to protect you and your children is a son, a daughter, a brother, a sister, a husband or a wife, a parent, a cousin. Every person I kill is someone else's important person. Do you care about them? No. So don't give me any bullshit about not protecting this village or not sacrificing anything! I've sacrificed my whole life! I've been killing people from the age of six years old! My father, my mother, my best friend, my mentor, almost every important person in my life is dead because they sacrificed their life for this village!"

My hate for this inconsiderate woman grows with every passing second, with every word she says. But it's not really hate, it's anger, and it's not really her I'm angry at. It's displaced anger, which should be directed at me. And it's not really anger, it's guilt. Guilt for not stopping myself from killing those people, guilt from every wrong decision I've made in my life.

"Almost everyone I ever cared about is dead because I screwed up," I whisper, taking a step backwards as guilt and grief crash down on me. Suffocating me; making it impossible to breathe.

That little girl; I stare into her eyes. She looks so much like her brother. Her face slowly morphs into her brother's; her brown hair becomes shorter and matted with blood. Her blue eyes turn green and lifeless; her clothes become dirty and soaked in blood. She turns into him. His blood gurgles out of his mouth as my kunai imbeds itself in his chest; pierces his heart.

My hand holds that kunai and his blood spills onto my hand. Soaks my gloves.

Someone runs into me and the image fades away. I'm back in the present; shaking, crying, and completely emotionally exhausted. I look down and that little girl is hugging my legs, clinging on for dear life.

She tilts her head to stare up at me, "You do care, don't you?" she questions, "You miss him just like me and mommy do, don't you?"

I raise my left hand and wipe my tears away. How many tears do I have? How many tears must I cry before I'm spent and they will come no more. How long until I no longer have to worry about the tears flowing uncontrollably and shamefully down my face? There must not be much left for I have cried more today than I have in the last fifteen years of my life.

"Oh my God," the mother mutters and I raise my head to look at her as I drop my arm back to my side.

She's just staring at me; shocked. It's unnerving.

"It's true," she mutters, "What they say is true. You really are a masochist, aren't you?"

I blink but give no other response.

"You're arm, I saw you're arm. Those scars," she whispers, "Did you really try to kill yourself like the rumours say."

"If you believe one rumour of a person then you must believe all of them," Asuma cryptically answers for me.

The mother grabs her daughter from me, "No matter what you say, no matter how you justify your actions, you are still a fucking bastard. I still believe you should be locked up for the rest of your life."

And she walks away, just like. Like nothing ever happened, like it doesn't matter to her anymore.

I'm left standing there, confused and emotionally drained. My thoughts are all jumbled up; everything I do seems like an action I can't control.

"Did you have another delusion?" Asuma asks and I just nod in response.

"You're having delusions?" Jiraiya asks in concern, "Maybe you should go back to the hospital and get some those checked."

"I hate hospitals," I mutter, 'Besides, I'll be fine."

"Will you?" Asuma questions.

"Eventually…I hope."

"How…how could you?" Someone mutters angrily and all three of us look towards the sound of the voice.

Naruto. Oh God. Do I have to deal with Naruto now? I can't take much more of this.

"I just want to go home," I whisper, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in my voice.

"You almost killed him!" Naruto screams at me.

I blink. I almost killed a lot of people, he as to be a lot more detailed than that.

He runs towards me, rage overtaking his sense of logic. Jiraiya grabs him and stops him from reaching me.

"Naruto!" Jiraiya yells in anger, "Do you not listen to a word anyone tells you?"

"He almost killed Iruka! I don't care what day it was or any of the other crap you guys all told me! He almost killed Iruka-sensei and he needs to pay!"

The guilt hits me ten times over. I had forgotten for the time being that I had hurt Iruka. I had forgotten how much my mistake has hurt my team.

"How could you?" Naruto angrily whispers, yet sad at the same time, "You always said we had to protect our important people, our friends. Was Iruka not your friend? Did you hate Iruka?"

I shake my head, unable to trust my voice to speak anymore.

"Then why? Why did you?"

My vision begins to blur, but not with tears this time. No. Finally my eyes are too dry to cry, finally I have spent every last tear I had left.

No, my vision blurs with exhaustion. Slowly I see dots appearing and disappearing randomly, spots of colour that beat to the tune of my weak and brittle mind. I reach out my hand, grabbing on to Asuma's arm right before my world turns black and I welcome the comforting silence of unconsciousness.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Someone knocks on my door and I look up from my post at the doorframe leading into my spare bedroom.

Jiraiya gets up from his seat at the kitchen table, coffee still in hand, and opens the door. I turn my focus back to the prone man lying in my spare bed, under my spare sheets.

"How's he doing?" the visitor asks Jiraiya.

"He's unconscious but his vitals are all stable. Asuma thought it would be best if Kakashi would wake up here and not in a hospital bed again," Jiraiya answers in a somber tone, "I had always hoped I would never have to go though this again, especially with Sakumo's son."

"We all hoped this could be avoided," the visitor says to Jiraiya as he walks up to me and stands beside me, "How has he been today?" he asks.

"I'm worried father," I answer, no longer caring about formalities.

"Why?" Sarutobi probes after a few minutes of silence.

I turn my head to look at Jiraiya, leaning on the wall on the other side of the hall, coffee still in hand. He nods at me, telling me I should say all that worries me.

"He's been having difficulty focusing," I say, "which I know is to be expected, but still. It takes longer for him to respond to questions and a lot of what he says is fragmented and broken apart. Like he can't complete proper thoughts in his head and therefore can no longer make proper sentences."

"That is strange, especially for him…"

"It is not the worst part," I interrupt, desperate to release this burden that crushes my heart, "He's been having delusions, terrible delusions that render him a complete emotional wreck and exhausts him. He had problems grasping the fact that if something is illogical he should believe it is a delusion, not reality. He couldn't understand what illogical was until I explained it to him using genjutsu as an example of an illogical situation."

"He couldn't understand an illogical situation?" my father asks, but I ignore his question.

"Father," I whisper, my voice near breaking into sobs as I turn to stare into his eyes, "His delusions aren't always about what happened in the past few weeks. He speaks of seeing Rin and her death; he speaks of Yondaime and the death of Team Seven. He speaks of his own failures, his own guilt. I can't do this…," I choke out, "I can't sit here and watch him slowly fade away in front of me."

I hear Jiraiya walk away; I hear my door open and close as the legendary Sannin leaves me alone to talk to my father in peace.

"I know it's hard for you but we can't abandon him, we have to stay by him and support him. Make sure he knows that we care," my father informs me.

"I know that, and I **do** care father. But this is breaking me, this is killing me. He spoke of Yondaime abandoning him; he spoke of leaving Team Seven to die to complete a mission. I know they're delusions and I know they're not real but you should see him," tears threaten to spill out of my eyes as I desperately try to keep my emotions in check.

"His eyes," I mutter, dropping my gaze to the floor, "My God dad, his **eyes**," I haven't called Sarutobi 'dad' since I was a little kid.

"When he snaps out of those delusions," I continue, the tears forcing their way out of my eyes as the memories flood my mind, "his eyes, they're just so scared, so broken, so terrified. So **alone**. He really believes those delusions; he really thinks they're reality. He really thinks we're going to abandon him and leave him alone…"

"He really thinks he's broken beyond repair, doesn't he?" my father finishes for me as he hugs me.

And for the first time since I was eleven years old, for the first time in sixteen years, I cried into my father's shoulder like a little frightened child.

"I don't want to lose him," I whisper through my sobs, unsure of whether my father can even understand me or not, "I don't know what I would do if he died, I don't know if I could handle the guilt."

"He's not going to die Asuma. He's strong and with our help he will be able to make it through this. We just have to stay strong son, stay strong for him."

"His eyes dad, I think they're going to haunt me for the rest of my life. They almost make **me** believe the delusions he talks about and I don't even see them," my voice his harsh and raspy, the sobs tearing at my throat, "Why did it have to resort to this? Why couldn't he get help before it got this bad?"

"Some people have to hit rock bottom before they can get better Asuma. I told you about this, I explained this all to you before you agreed to become the main person in charge of helping Kakashi," my father replies, "Do you regret doing this? Because if you do then you don't have to continue, you can stop anytime. I don't want to lose you because you invest too much of yourself to save Kakashi."

I can hear the concern in my father's voice, the guilt that he holds for putting me in such a position.

"I don't regret it dad," I reply, "I just didn't think it would be this emotionally draining."

"Perhaps I should…"

"Don't dad," I interrupt him, "Don't get someone else. I can do this; I'm not going to give up on him. He's my friend and I don't care how hard it is, I'm going to save him."

"Son, I knew I could count on you. I knew you'd be able to do this."

I can hear the pride in his voice; I can hear the support and love he carries for me.

I can only pray I won't let him down.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**(1) Arashi: "**There seems to be some controversy over the 4th Hokage's true name. The two leading contenders are Arashi Kazama and Arashi Uzumaki. Apparently, both of these names were seen to be written, Arashi Kazama on the summoning contract that Naruto signs to call forth Gamabunta, and Arashi Uzumaki in the Japanese episode were Jiraiya was talking to Naruto about what happened with the Kyuubi. Additionally, I'm told that Masashi Kishimoto, the creator of Naruto, said in an interview that the 4th Hokage's name is Arashi Kazama, though this is highly disputed and shouldn't be taken as fact. And finally, I'm also told that the writing on those contracts is simply gibberish, written to look like extremely poor handwriting so nobody would be able to read it.

However, his real name has yet to be officially mentioned in either the Anime or the Manga."

- From **_absoluteanime_**

**Author's Note: **Because both suspected names have "Arashi" as the first name I decided to use that as Yondaime's first name. This is in no way proven as fact but is only speculation. Please don't quote me as saying that "Arashi" is the real name of Yondaime because I, along with everyone else, doesn't know that for sure.


	6. Chapter Five

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 5:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **This story is going to start eluding to situations that have occurred in my other story, "Fade to Black". If you are not currently reading "Fade to Black" I suggest you start because the delusions and some other things (such as Kakashi's health from now on) are going to make much more sense if you read "Fade to Black". It explains things more (since "Fade to Black" is a story about Kakashi's childhood, that would make sense, right?). I just said "Fade to Black" far too much in this author's note so I'm going to shut-up now._

_Oh, and please excuse and grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A white ceiling. Is there any ceiling in Konoha that isn't white? This one isn't smooth like the hospital ceiling. It's bumpy, one of those artistic ceilings. I never got that bumpy ceiling fad. My apartment has it too. It just looks stupid to me.

"My chest hurts," I mutter.

How many people are here? I can feel chakra; strong chakra. I'm just far too tired to try and figure out what chakra belongs to who. I'm too drained to try and focus my brain.

I turn my head to stare into the eyes of three people, three friends, three _someones_ I can count on. At least, I think I can count on them. I hope I can.

"Kakashi," Jiraiya begins with concern, "Have you been taking your medication?"

"Medication?" I faintly hear Asuma question, "What medication?"

"He never told you?" Jiraiya asks, turning to look at the Sandaime's son.

Their voices all sound so far away, so disconnected, so distorted and fuzzy.

"He doesn't need to know," I whisper.

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move my ribs up and down with every breath. I can feel every beat my heart takes, every pump of blood it makes. It strains to work, strains to keep going.

I watch as Sarutobi walks over and takes my wrist in his hands. Is he feeling for a pulse? Will he notice the slow beating of my heart? The struggle it has to undertake just to keep going, to keep me alive.

"How long has it hurt?" the Sandaime asks me.

"A month, maybe two," I reply, "Or three…I can't remember now."

"He hasn't been taking his medication," Jiraiya mutters, "Now it's too late to start again."

"Didn't the hospital…?" I question. Surely I would've been given the medication at the hospital.

"Yes," Sarutobi answers in a near whisper, "But it must've been too late by then."

"It's only been two years," I mumble. It shouldn't be failing this soon, "I should have at least three years left."

"What do you expect!" Jiraiya exclaims in anger, "You're doing drugs! Drinking! Starving yourself! You've ruined this heart!"

I blink. Why is he so angry?

"And now your body's too frail to have a transplant," he finishes, his voice falling to a whisper.

Now I know why he's so angry. I've been slowly killing this heart, and I didn't even notice. Or maybe I did notice and I just didn't care. Who knows? I know I don't.

"What the fuck are you guys talking about?" Asuma asks. Confusion, anger, and frustration clear in his voice, "Can someone please tell me what is going on?"

"You don't need to know," I repeat to him.

"Kakashi!" he exclaims in anger, "I'm your friend, your sick, and no one will tell me why. Of course I need to know!" his voice fills with sadness.

Unshed tears glisten in his eyes, "I just want to know the truth. For once will you just tell me the truth Kakashi?"

I blink and turn my head to stare up at the white ceiling. Popcorn ceiling, that's what that stupid bumpy-ceiling fad was called.

"It's a long story," I mutter, "Ask your dad about it one day. He'll tell you."

"No," my friend protests, "I want you to tell me. For once I want you to trust me enough to tell me something important. I'm tired of hearing everything about you from other people. I want you to tell me."

I sigh, "I can't do that Asuma. I can't do that."

Silence. Followed shortly by a set of footsteps walking out of the room. A door opens, then slams shuts.

I turn my head to face the remaining two people in the room; Jiraiya and Sandaime.

"He's stressed," Jiraiya answers my unasked question.

"I'm killing him, aren't I?" I mutter, "I'm going to end up killing him."

"Kaka…"

"I'm sorry," I interrupt Sarutobi, "I'm sorry."

Sobs choke my throat. My chest burns, no, my heart burns with every deep gasp for air, with every racking sob that steals my breath.

I squeeze my eyes tight, desperately trying to stop the torrent of tears that escape from my eyes, "I'm sorry for everything. My whole life…everything…" the crying breaks my words apart, causing me to mumble, "Everything I've ever done…it's all been a failure. It's all ended in death."

I thought I had spent my tears. I thought they were dried up and gone. Apparently not.

I cry. Cry until all my tears are spent. Until my throat is raw and my eyes feel like they are full of sand. I cry until exhaustion forces me to stop.

"Kakashi?" Jiraiya whispers in concern.

I keep my eyes shut. Tears may no longer be left for me to cry but hiccups still choke my breath and burn my chest.

"I never meant…"

"Kakashi, I know. I know," Sarutobi interrupts my pitiful whimpers, "I understand."

I open my eyes and turn to face the two Jounin. Jiraiya leans against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes downcast. Sarutobi's kneeling beside the bed, hands still holding tightly on to m wrist, still hoping for a stronger pulse; a stronger lifeline.

"Kakashi," Sarutobi whispers, "the Elders want a trial."

I nod, "Of course they would," I reply with a sad smile, "I know I'm not getting out of this one."

"I can schedule one for whenever you feel healthy enough to be there," he continues, "It's your decision."

"As soon as you can," I answer, returning my gaze to the ceiling.

"Are you sure?" Jiraiya questions.

"I hate waiting for my fate, just get it over with. I just want to know," I mumble, pushing myself up to a sitting position.

Sandaime releases my wrist from his grasp, "I can have one scheduled in two hours. Don't be late."

I watch as he stands up and performs a few seals before disappearing.

And then there were two.

"Asuma deserves to know," Jiraiya says, his eyes still downcast, "He's been with you through thick and thin. He's stuck by you when almost everyone else gave up," he raises his head to look up at me.

For the first time in my entire life I watch as Jiraiya, one of the Legendary Sannin, sheds silent tears.

"He never gave up on you," he whispers, "He never will. I don't want you to die, none of us do. Remember that."

"You promised father didn't you?" I mutter, "Just like Sarutobi did. That's the only reason you two are still here."

"Asuma didn't promise anyone, not your father, not me, not his father. He stands by you because he cares for you. So do I."

"But you promised him, didn't you?"

"Yes. Yes I did. And I'm glad. There's something about you Kakashi, something that draws people to you. Something that makes people happy to be with you, to be your friend. More people care for you then you acknowledge."

"Like who? Three? It's just you, Asuma, and Sarutobi," I mutter angrily, "And that's too many as it is."

"There's Kurenai, and Tsume. There's Gai, Genma, Raido, Ibiki, Anko, Aoba, Dan. Even Shibi, the only one more anti-social than you, has become friends with you over the years. Then there's your team, Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura. They care for you too."

"Naruto hates me," I whisper with a sad chuckle, "I almost killed Iruka and now he hates me."

"He's been begging to see you so that he can apologize. Sakura has been begging to see you too. She keeps complaining that she hasn't seen you yet. Sasuke tried to sneak in to the hospital once to see you, and he tried here too."

"Sakura?" I whisper in confusion, "I've already seen Sakura."

"That's not what she says," Jiraiya's own confused voice reaches my ears, "When did you see her?"

"Right after I left the hospital. I went to the Memorial Stone, she was there. She saw me," I mutter, "She was there."

"Are you sure?" Jiraiya asks in concern, "You've been having delusions. It could've been one."

"But if that was a delusion then anything could be a delusion. Then this could be a delusion," I whisper, panic growing inside me, "All my other delusions were things that could never be real. People walking who I knew were dead. People talking when they had their hearts ripped out. She was just at the Memorial Stone. She talked like a normal person, with normal words, normal reactions."

"Kaka…"

"How am I suppose to know what's real and what's not? How am I suppose to figure out when my mind's fucking with me and when it's not? How?"

"Kakashi, it's not something you can dwell on," Jiraiya tries to comfort me, "You can only take every day as it comes. From now on you can only take the obstacles as they come. Face them as you learn of them."

"It's not that easy," I mutter, "It's not the same. This is my mind. The one thing I've always been able to trust."

"Ka…"

"Even my mind is turning against me," I whimper.

God, I must sound so pathetic. I wonder how ashamed father is of me. I'm acting like a little kid. Like a sick, needy child.

"I'm not a doctor Kakashi, I can barely even take my own advice. I don't know what I can tell you. I don't know how to help you."

I sigh, desperately trying to make sense of everything. Trying to understand why this is happening, why I'm like this. Oh yah, I'm fucked up, that's why. Everything I've done has never been good enough and it's fucked me up.

"Talk to Asuma," Jiraiya whisper before he too makes those familiar seals and disappears.

I pull up my mask, push the sheets back, and slide my legs out of the bed. My chest no longer hurts, it's become more of a dull aching that I can push to the back of my mind and forget about.

I stand up, my balance slightly off, and slowly make my way to the door. I'm winded by the time I get to it. It hurts to take deep breaths and without deep breaths I can't get the blood I need to get to my heart.

It's a vicious cycle that simply ends in pain on my end.

Why did I have to be so weak as a child to end up like this? With this health?

I stand still at the door as I struggle to get my bearings and calm my breathing. After a few silent moments I push the door open. I'm greeted by an empty hall leading to an empty living room and an empty kitchen. I can feel Asuma's chakra but it's not quite here. It's near, just no in this apartment.

I close my eyes and focus my own chakra outside, trying to pinpoint Asuma position.

He's on the roof.

I sigh, bringing my hands together to form a series of seals. The same ones Sarutobi and Jiraiya performed earlier. The hall spins away into blackness and the view of Konoha's silent streets appears before me as I find myself on the roof of the apartment building. It's dawn out, almost day. No wonder it's so silent on the streets, this is one of the most dangerous times to be out in this neighbourhood.

The small amount of chakra I just needed set my heart on fire but I ignore it. It's been worse before, so much worse. This is nothing compared to what I've had to deal with before.

Slowly I take the few steps need to make my way to my friend and I sit down beside him. We stay in silence for a few minutes. I take a deep breathe, calm my nerves, and do what I've rarely done before. I speak of my past.

"When I was six," I begin, my voice slightly shaking with nerves, "I almost killed myself…by accident."

I can feel Asuma's gaze on me as he turns his head to look at me.

"My father started training me when I was three," I continue, "and by the time I was six my chakra became to strong for me to control. Whenever I got upset or angry it would grow too strong for my body to handle. It destroyed my lungs, which Tsunade managed to repair. That's why my lungs are more sensitive than most peoples, it also contributes to my lack of stamina."

I take a deep breathe, "It completely destroyed my heart."

I close my eyes and force myself to continue. Talking of this brings back too many memories I'd rather leave forgotten.

"I had to have a heart transplant. I have to have heart transplants every five to seven years. My body completely rejects the hearts after that time, no matter what medication I take to try and prevent it."

We fall into silence. Asuma turns his head and returns his gaze to the silent streets of Konoha; the hidden village of leaves. Time makes its slow crawl. It gets lighter, the sun begins to rise.

"I destroyed my health when I was six," I mutter.

"It's wasn't your fault," Asuma whispers, "You were a kid. Someone should've noticed your chakra was getting too strong."

"Yondaime had to seal my chakra," I continue in a barely audible whisper, "I learned after, when I was older, that I almost killed him. My body resisted the seal and he had to open up the first five Celestial Gates(1) to get enough of his own chakra to seal my chakra. I almost killed the future-Yondaime when I was seven years old."

"Seven? I thought you were six?" Asuma questions.

"I was in a coma for eleven months. Well, I did wake up two times in those eleven months. Or maybe it was three, I can't quite remember."

"Oh," was all he could say in response.

"I have to go to my trial in about an hour," I mutter after the silence stretches on for too long.

"You should get some better fitting clothes," Asuma tells me, "It will make you look slightly healthier if you're not swimming in your clothes."

I nod.

He stands up and I follow suit.

"Here, take this," Asuma hands me his forehead protector, "And stop forgetting yours."

I smile underneath my mask, "Thanks," and take the offered forehead protector and put it on, pulling the left side of it down to cover the Sharingan.

We both perform the same seals and my vision spins into a black void. A few seconds later I find myself at a door in the long hallway of the sixth floor of the Hokage Tower. Asuma appears right beside me a few seconds after.

"I haven't been here in awhile," I mutter as I turn the handle and push the door open.

I walk into the room, followed closely by Asuma. The walls are lined with standard issued shirts and pants; some black and some navy, along with Chunin and Jounin vests. All organized by size and colour. A small desk is situated at the far wall and a make-shift fitting area is to the right of the desk; nothing more than a curtain on a rod.

Another shinobi is already here, his back faces me as he leans against the desk. He's making light conversation with Ikuo; the shinobi fitter for over three decades. He used to make custom clothes and vests for me when I was younger and too small to fit even the smallest of the pre-made clothes.

He looks up as the door clicks closed behind me, "Hey Kakashi," he greets me with a nod and a smile.

"Hi," I reply as I walk towards the desk.

The other shinobi turns around to see who has entered and I freeze. Why? Why him? Why now? Why?

"Kakashi," he greets with a bow.

"Kakashi?" he questions as the room twists into the training fields. My hand shoved through his abdomen, the Jutsu completed with Obito's eye ripped through him.

His blood spills on to my arm as his face twists from shock into pain. My hand went right through him, breaking through skin and muscle.

"Kakashi?" I hear Asuma whisper has he places his right hand on my shoulder, "Kakashi?"

I blink and the training field, along with Iruka's broken body, fades back into the room. His standing there, concern on his face. I take a step back. How can I face him? How can I look at him? After what I've done, after the pain I caused him, how?

His eyes hold so much concern in them. He's worried about me. Umino Iruka, the man I almost murdered, is concerned about me. Why?

"Kakashi-senpai?" he asks in concern, "Are you alright?"

"I almost killed you," I whisper in a shaking voice, "And yet you're still concerned for me. Why don't you hate me?"

He blinks, realization dawning in his eyes, "I'll come back later Ikuo," he says before performing a few seals and disappearing.

I take a deep breath, which causes a sharp pain to shoot through my heart, and try desperately to block out the memories of that night. I close my eyes and take another deep breath. The physical pain blocks out the emotional pain, distracts me, makes it easier to deal with.

"Kakashi?" Asuma asks in concern.

"I'm fine," I whisper, "I'm fine."

"What do you need?" Ikuo's caring voice reaches my ears. He's trying to distract me, trying to change the conversation.

He's pretending to care. Now he knows the monster I really am, the monster I choose to be.

"He needs a smaller size," Asuma answers for me, "He seems to have lost some weight."

"What size are you now?" Ikuo asks.

I open my eyes, "A medium," I reply as I watch Ikuo walk out from behind the desk and over to the shelves of clothes.

"I think you should try a small, but you might need an extra-small now," Ikuo mutters, more to himself then to me, "You wear black, right?"

"Yes," I absent-mindedly answer.

I watch as Ikuo pulls out a shirt and pants from the shelves and walks over to me.

"Try these on," he urges as he points over to the make-shift change rooms.

I nod, take the offered clothes and walk over to the change-room. I pull the curtain closed and change.

"How do they fit?" the fitter asks.

"You think Sarutobi could afford to buy a real dressing-room for this place," I mutter under my breath.

Ikuo laughs, "There's no need for a real change room," he replies, "Now, do they fit or not?"

"I'm not sure," I answer as I pull the curtains open, leaving my Jounin vest on the floor, "They might still be a little big."

"Well," Asuma adds, "If you plan on actually taking care of yourself from now on than you'll gain some weight and they won't be so big anymore."

"That won't do," Ikuo informs us, "Uniforms have to fit at whatever size you are."

"Then I need an extra-small?" I ask, "That seems awfully small, even for me."

"They will be too small, but the smalls are too big. But I think I have a couple nearly-smalls still left."

"Nearly-smalls?" I question, "That's actually a size?"

"Nope," Ikuo replies with a smile, "But I made a huge batch of them about six years ago for you. Remember when you got really sick but still insisted on still going on missions. You needed nearly-smalls than so I made them for you."

I watch as he walks back over to his desk and kneels down behind it. I hear shuffling as he searches for those nearly-small sized clothes. He reappears and tosses a pair of pants and a shirt at me. I catch them easily and shut the curtain once again as I change.

I pull back the curtain, walk over to Ikuo, and hand the small-sized clothes back to him.

"These fit just fine," I say, "Thanks."

"No problem," he replies as he folds the small-sized clothes up and places them back in the shelf.

"Here, try on this Jounin vest, it's a small but it should fit you. The vests tend to fit a little snugger than the clothes."

He hands me the vest and I put it on, "It fits."

"Good," he says.

I walk over to the change room and grab my old clothes, along with my old Jounin vest, from the floor.

"I can take those if you want," Ikuo says with a smile and I nod, handing him the clothes but setting the vest on the desk.

I remove the scrolls from the vest and place them in my new vest. Then I take out my wallet from the old vest and open it up, handing my old vest to Ikuo.

"You don't need to pay," Ikuo shoes my money away with a wave of his hand, "It's my treat."

I look up at him, "I don't need your charity or your pity," I mutter before handing him the money, "Take it."

"Fine," he replies with a chuckle, "Who am I to argue with Hatake Kakashi?"

I just shake my head and smile, "Thanks," I say again.

"You have about ten minutes," Asuma informs me from the back of the room, "We should probably go there now. Being early for this might help you a bit."

I nod and put my wallet back in my vest. I perform those familiar seals with my hands and the room spins into blackness and I find myself in the entrance room of the third floor of the Hokage tower; the court room. A couple seconds later Asuma appears beside me.

"Kakashi?" a man asks from behind me and I turn around to face him.

"Mitokado Homura," I greet with a bow.

My heart burns from the effort of getting here. I really should stop using chakra since I don't really need too.

"It's not often that you're earlier," Homura says.

"Some things deserve my punctuality," I whisper.

"Do you just choose to be on time when it benefits you most?" another man questions from the shadows in the corner.

"Danzo, you will have your chance to speak at the trial," Homura cuts in.

"Is this a private trial?" I ask.

God I hope it is. I don't think I could handle having it public, having anyone being able to come and watch.

"It's private," Homura answers.

"It shouldn't be," Danzo argues, "It should be public."

"Hold your tongue Danzo, you will have you chance in a few minutes to say your peace."

The two Elders perform a few seals and disappear.

"I guess we wait?" Asuma asks, "I've never been to one of these things before."

"Let's hope it stays that way for you," I reply, "You know you won't be able to come in, right?"

He nods, "Don't worry, I'll be waiting right here for you when it's finished."

"Hatake Kakashi?" a guard questions and I turn to look at him.

"Yes?" I reply.

"Your presence is required," he announces with low bow.

I nod and make my way over to the double doors. The guard pushes them open and I walk in. I've done this before, multiple times, but never for something so serious. This time it's going to be different. This time I know I won't be getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.

I make my way to the center of the room. A desk is at the end of the room; a desk with four seats. One occupied by the Hokage and the other three occupied by the Elders.

"Sandaime, Danzo, Mitokado Homura, Utatane Koharu," I acknowledge with a low bow for each name I say.

Sarutobi rises, a scroll in his hands, and reads out, "Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo and Hatake Narita, you are charged with 'Endangerment of the Civilians of Konohagakure' and 'Attempted Murder and Murder'. How do you plead?"

I look down at the ground and close my eyes, my voice shakes with grief, "I, Hatake Kakashi, plead guilty to all charges."

"Very well," Sarutobi continues, "Your plea has been acknowledged and entered into your permanent file. You will now hear the thoughts of the Elders on your actions and what they believe should be your punishment."

I nod, taking a deep breathe to calm my nerves.

I hear Sarutobi sit down, "Danzo," he says as a way to tell him to begin.

"Hatake Kakashi," Danzo begins, "I, as a general in the ANBU have seen you in action many times. No one will ever hear me say that you are not skilled for you are skilled in many ways. However, your actions a few weeks ago were not of the reputation you have built for yourself. To me it seems as if you are falling into disgrace, just like your father Hatake Sakumo. I believe that if you are not careful your skills with drop and your ability to control your emotions will fade. Justice must be made to the families of those you killed and those you injured," he takes a deep breath.

"Also," he continues, "Your recent drug and alcohol dependency has come to our attention. In light of this, I, Danzo, suggest that your shinobi title be revoked for two years and that you should be required to enter a year-long rehab program for depression, drugs, and alcohol. After the two years has passed you should be required to pass a psychiatric evaluation before you are allowed to return to active duty."

"Homura," Sarutobi says after a few moments of silence, "What are your thoughts?"

"I, Mitokado Homura, have taken into account the same things that Danzo has taken into account. However I do not believe that you should be punished so severely for I don't believe that you are falling into disgrace but simply going through a rough path of depression and self-doubt. I suggest that you, Hatake Kakashi, should be suspended from active duty for eight months and be required to go to rehab for depression, drugs, and alcohol. I also believe, like Danzo, that you should be required to pass a psychiatric evaluation before you are allowed to return to active duty."

A few moments of silence pass, "Koharu," Sarutobi whispers, "And your thoughts?"

"I, Utatane Koharu, have taken into account the same things that Mitokado Homura and Danzo have taken into account. Your drug and alcohol dependency is what worries me the most for your father, Hatake Sakumo, fell into the same trap that you are slowly falling into with drugs and alcohol. Also, your heart condition must be taken into account and your drug addiction must be dealt with if you expect your body to be healthy enough to undergo another heart transplant. Which we have just earlier been informed is something you are going to require very soon. Therefore, I suggest that you, Hatake Kakashi, should be suspended for only three months but should be required to undergo two years of psychiatric therapy."

"Hatake Kakashi," Sarutobi begins, "Is there anything you wish to say in your defense?"

I gulp, "Only that I am sorry," I whisper, barely audible, "And that I regret what I did."

A few tears manage to squeeze their way out of my closed eyes and land on the tile floor.

A chair shifts, scratching on the floor, as Sarutobi stands up.

"Hatake Kakashi," Sarutobi begins, "look at me and take your punishment with the grace and strength of the true shinobi you are."

I open my eyes and lift my head to stare at Sandaime. I wonder how pathetic I must look to them.

"In light of what I know and what the Elders have expressed I, the Fourth Hokage of Konohagakure, have decided your punishment."

I take a deep breath, my heart burns but I don't care. The physical pain helps dull the emotional pain.

"Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo and Hatake Narita, you are sentenced to a one year suspension of your shinobi title and you're required to complete a six month psychiatric therapy session before you can return to active duty."

I nod, trying desperately to keep the unshed tears unshed and to hide the emotional pain that guts me.

"At this time we would normal ask for you to hand over your forehead protector," Sarutobi continues, "But because of extenuating circumstances concerning your Sharingan eye we will allow you to keep our forehead protector."

I nod, "Thank you," I choke out.

"You are excused," Sarutobi says with a wave of his hand, "You may leave."

I nod, turn around, and make my way to the door. I push it open and let it slam shut behind me.

"Kakashi?" Asuma questions, "So?"

I stare at him, but it's not just him here. Gai's here too, so is Kurenai, even Anko and Ibiki are here. So is Genma and Raido. Why are they all here? Who all told them?

"One year suspension," I whisper, "and six months of therapy."

"That's not so bad," Genma says, "It could've been worse."

"One year," I mutter, "One year where I can't go on missions, I can't train anyone, I can't do anything. One year where I can't do the only thing that gives me a reason to still live."

One year. What am I suppose to do for one fucking year?

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- **

**(1) Celestial Gates:** Also known as "The Eight Gates", "The Eight Inner Gates", or "The Eight Chakra Gates"

The basis for the idea of the chakra gates comes from the body's limits on the functions within it. This makes the body much weaker, but it keeps the body from expiring too soon. By opening these gates, the user can surpass their own physical limits at the cost of extreme damage to their own bodies.

- From **_wikipedia_ **

**Author's Note: **I decided to use "The Celestial Gates" as the name because it just sounds way cooler than any of the other names. You can wikipedia the Eight Gates under "Taijutsu in Naruto" and you can get the names of all the Eight Gates and what they do.


	7. Chapter Six

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 6:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **I had a whole schedule for the order in which I was going to work on my fanfics and update them. But then came along this fanfic and screwed up that whole organized system. Originally this chapter had a lot of allusions to events in Kakashi's past that had not yet been explored in my other fanfics so I was going to wait to update this story until the other ones were done. But then I realized that throughout this whole chapter Kakashi was completely out of character. Like, Kakashi would **not **open up to any therapist… what was I thinking? So I scrapped 90 of the chapter and started over – and now there are no allusions to his past (since he's not talking about it) – well, there is a few, but they're very vague and mysterious for a reason (because I'm cool like that!)._

_So that's a benefit to everyone – you guys get this story updated sooner and with a more in-character Kakashi and I have less traumatic, life-changing, depressing, and emotionally draining stuff to write (which is a relief to me – that stuff gets very, very hard to write). So it's a win-win for everyone. (Don't worry, there's still a healthy dose of angst and dramatics in this chapter – after all, this is **me** writing this story, how could there not be?)_

_Oh, and please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

_**2nd Author's Note:** I have elected that, when introducing people (there's a few more introductions in this chapter then normal) I shall stick with the traditional Japanese way of introductions – the surname comes first (example: Hatake Kakashi). For me it sounds more correct to say Japanese names in the traditional Japanese way. So please keep that in mind._

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"You can't stay here forever."

"Time changes everything," I mutter in reply.

Sarutobi moves to stand beside me, "That's what 'they' say."

"I know."

"You've never believed in what 'they' say."

"I know."

"Please Kakashi… don't pull away from us, we're only trying to help you."

"You're doing a marvelous job," I don't bother to try and hide the sarcasm in my voice.

He falls silent for a while but eventually he speaks, changing the conversation, "You've been disappearing to the outskirt training fields for a few hours every day, why?."

"The finals rounds for the Chunin exams are in less then a week now," I reply calmly.

"Sasuke's been missing at the same time you've been," Sarutobi continues, ignoring what I just said. "You know you're not suppose to be training anyone."

I stay silent.

"What are you doing when you leave?" he prods.

"Do you really want to know?" I whisper.

He sighs, "I guess not."

I rub the Sharingan with my left hand in an attempt to relieve the dull ache that is now constant within the eye.

"It's the perfect house," I say in reference to the building we're standing in front of, letting my hand drop back down to my side.

"Yet you still refuse to live in it," he replies.

"How could I? I watched my father die in that house," my voice drops to a mere whisper.

"But you returned to live in it at one point."

I close my eyes for a brief second to keep the memories of that time of my life locked away. "I had no choice," I simply reply.

We fall into silence as I watch my shadow grow longer as the sun rises behind us.

"Do you know what has occurred during the Chunin exams?" the Hokage asks me.

"Orochimaru was here, Sasuke got a cursed seal, an attack may occur," I nonchalantly state, "I've been informed."

"You know if Konoha is attacked your suspension is temporarily removed to allow you to protect the village."

"Even if it wasn't I would still fight, you know that."

The Sandaime nods, "I know Kakashi, I know."

"I have a psych appointment," I mutter, drastically changing the course of the conversation – I don't particularly want to talk about Orochimaru at the moment. "Some sort of group shit where I'll just sit around and not talk and Dr. Tanihira will just get silently pissed off."

Sarutobi chuckles, "Sounds fun."

I roll my eyes and then push down my hitaiate so that it covers my Sharingan again. I then perform a few familiar seals; my visions twists into black and then the hospital comes into view.

I sigh as I push one of the glass double doors open and step inside the quiet distress of the hospital lobby. People waiting to see a doctor, others waiting for news of their loved ones, and still others waiting for hope that they know will not come.

I silently make my way down the all-too-familiar halls until I reach the door that leads to the room I was meant to be in twenty minutes ago. I place my hand – that shakes with the desire for some sort of pain-numbing drug – on the doorknob, take a deep breath, and open the door.

Six people, including the psychiatrist, stop in mid conversation and look up at me.

"You're late," Dr. Tanihira states with a frown. "I told you not to be."

I shrug and sit down in the remaining available seat in the circle, right across from Dr. Tanihira. I'm too tired and too drained to think of any sort of excuse right now.

"Well," the doctor begins, "Now that everyone is here let's begin with introductions. We will all be together for at least the next three months, possibly longer, so we need to get to know each other. Remember, we are not here to judge anyone but only to listen and to offer understanding – everyone here is suffering from many of the same problems, that is why I put you all together."

A few of the people nod but everyone else, including me, don't respond. There's four girls here, five including the psychiatrist, and only one other guy here besides me.

I have a feeling that I'm not going to find the next three months here enjoyable in any way.

"Everyone here knows who I am," Dr. Tanihira continues, "So instead let's begin in a volunteer manner. Who wants to go first?"

For a few silent moments no one offers and then finally a young girl, who can't be more then sixteen years old, slowly raises her hand. Tanihira smiles and nods for her to start.

She lowers her hand and says, in a shaking voice, "My name is Nakagome Tama. I'm fourteen years old."

"Is there anything else you want to say about yourself Tama?" Tanihira prods, "Any activities you like?"

"I… I'm a ballerina. And… and I like to… to draw," she stutters out and then falls silent.

Tanihira nods, "Very good. Who wants to go next?"

"My name is Yamada Sinji," the only other male in the room speaks up, "I'm a construction worker. I'm twenty-nine, married, and have two beautiful children – a boy who is eight and a little girl who is three."

He falls silent and then the oldest of the women raises her hand and all eyes turn to her.

"My name is Matsuse Kayo. I'm twenty-five and a teacher for children ages six to eleven. I love my job and wouldn't trade it for the world. I hope to someday get married and have children of my own."

The room falls silent as no one wants to go next. Eventually the silence is broken when another of the women speaks, but her voice is so quiet I can barely even hear it.

"My name is Awada Megumi. I'm twenty-two and I live with my boyfriend. I have a cat that I really, really love and wouldn't be able to live without."

A cat? A cat is the most important thing to this person. I would shake my head in disbelief if I wasn't surrounded by so many people who would notice if I made any movement at all.

Megumi doesn't say anything else and there's only me and one other person left to introduce ourselves. I know for a fact that I will be the last one to introduce myself for I will wait here until the day is over. I have no where I need to be and it's not like I ever really mark the passage of time anyways.

"Well," Dr. Tanihira speaks up, "Which one of you two is going to go first?" She gives us both a look that suggests we need to speak up so we can move on.

"My name is Tokuma May and I'm nineteen."

I knew I would be the last one to speak. Why that is so important to me I don't really know. But I'm glad that I accomplished it.

"I don't have a job," she continues, "I live at home with my parents and I'm currently studying to become a doctor. I originally wanted to become a medical-nin but my parents wouldn't let me so I've settled for just becoming a doctor. A cardiologist to be exact."

The room goes completely silent and I know that I have to speak now… unless I really want to piss of Dr. Tanihira.

"Hatake Kakashi, twenty-seven, shinobi."

Everyone just stares at me as they expect me to continue but I don't. I simply lean back in my chair and cross my arms – keeping my eyes on Dr. Tanihira.

"Kakashi," Tanihira states, "Anything else you want to say?"

I keep my eyes on her but don't respond. No shake of my head, no words, nothing. My silence should be enough of an answer for her. If she's going to stick me in a stupid group rehab program against my will for three months then I'm going to make sure that she knows I don't like this.

"Very well –"

"Excuse me," the youngest one – Tama – interrupts Dr. Tanihira and my gaze is drawn over to her.

"Yes?" the doctor questions.

Tama leans forward in her chair and looks directly at me, "Are you the one that… you know… killed those people?"

I nod slightly. Hoping against all hope that she won't see the miniscule action but I know that she will.

"My sister," she whispers, "She was… she was…" he voice starts breaking, "she… just training… you, you… killed her… didn't you?"

I can see the resemblance now – between her and one of the children I had killed that day. I'm not sure if I should answer her, I'm not sure if I should confirm the reality that she must already know is true.

"Why?" she questions me, a slight hint of anger mixing in with her grief, "Why?"

I gulp. I have no answer to her question. It's the same question I've asked myself over and over again and I've never found an answer.

"Tama," Dr. Tanihira speaks up, "Such answers we shall find when we're all ready – but now is not the time."

She nods and leans back in her chair. I let out the nervous breath I didn't know I was holding. Her questioning had made me panic – that shouldn't have happened. I should be able to control my emotions more, I'm a shinobi for fuck sakes.

That panic made my heart race, which in turn brought back the fiery pain that reminds me of my deteriorating health. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm down my panic and adrenaline. I shouldn't be reacting this way too a few words spoken by a fourteen year-old ballet dancer. It's just words, questions, nothing more. I've been questioned before in far worse manners.

_But those manners were all physical before._ A small part of my brain whispers at me. _This is all psychological, you don't deal well with this kind of interaction._ I push those thoughts away. I can't doubt myself here – this isn't the place. There is no fucking way I'm going to start opening up to a bunch of strangers who don't even give a shit about me.

Dr. Tanihira clears her throat and all attention is brought back to her.

"Now, to start off with I'm going to stress, even though I've told you all this before, how important it is that what is said here **does not **leave this room," she pauses and gives as all a potent look, "You now all know that we have a shinobi who is still in active duty participating in this group rehab – if what is spoken in this room concerning him leaks out we will probably all be charged with high treason and sent to jail or possibly to our deaths."

The others all nod in agreement at her words. She must of told them to this many times before for they don't seem to be too concerned with this fact.

"Okay, with that settled I'm going to do something I don't normally do. You see, at this point I would go around the circle and ask you all to state why you are here but we have a few people in this room who would either not say anything or say only half the truth," she stares directly at me as she says the last part.

So I don't like spilling my internal emotional battles out to random strangers. Why does everyone think that is so strange?

"So instead," she continues, "I am going to alphabetically go down a list of what problems are most common to those I treat and I ask that you all raise your hand when I name something that you are currently dealing with or have dealt with in your past." She pauses for moment as she pulls out a piece of paper from her bag. "Please be honest. No one here is going to judge anyone."

She clears her throat, "Abuse… of any nature, whether physical, emotional or sexual. The specifics are not what concerns me right now."

Everyone raises their hand, even myself. This one was pretty much a given – did she even really need to ask us?

"Abandonment Disorder," she continues.

"That's not alphabetically," I state.

"Pardon?"

"Abandonment comes before Abuse… you know, 'A' comes before 'U' in the alphabet," I explain to the slightly confused doctor.

"So?" one of the woman – Kayo -- questions, "Does it matter?"

"She said she was doing it alphabetically," I elaborate, "But she isn't… so I'm just telling her that she made a mistake."

"Why? So you can make you feel inferior to you?"

"No." What is Kayo thinking? Why would I do that? "I was just informing her. Helping her out. Showing her her mistake so she can fix it."

"Enough Kayo, Kakashi," Dr. Tanihira in interjects, "Let's continue… I'll repeat, Abandonment Disorder?"

Megumi is the only one to raise her hand – the rest off us don't suffer from that, I guess.

"Alcoholism?"

This time Sinji and I join Megumi in raising our hands. I'm not quite sure if I'm currently suffering from alcoholism – I might only have a binge-drinking problem right now – but I do know that I've had problems with alcohol in the past.

Dr. Tanihira jots a few things down in her notebook. "Depression?" she questions.

May and Kayo raise their hands but no one else does. I probably should but I really don't feel like telling everyone I'm depressed. Tanihira looks at me and raises an eyebrow in question but I just shrug at her.

She sighs. "Eating disorder?"

Tama is the only one to raise her hand. Something I'm not surprised about. I noticed her frail frame when I entered this room and as soon as she said she was a ballerina I had already made the connection. That one was easy.

"Drug addiction?"

Tama and May both raise their hands. For a moment I was about too but I then decided not too. I don't have a drug addiction. I might takes drugs every once in a while for a release but I definitely don't have a problem. That much I know.

"Rape?"

Tama and Megumi are the only two to raise their hands. I'm slightly surprised. I thought the other two women would have raised their hands too – but I was wrong.

"Self-mutilation?"

This one I know I can't hide. The rumours are already out there and this will most likely be found to be true about me later – no matter how hard I try to hide it. So I join Sinji and Kayo in raising my hand.

"This is the last one," Dr. Tanihira states, "Survivor's guilt?"

Not a single hand is raised.

"No one?" the doctor questions in surprise, "I find it difficult to believe that a shinobi would not suffer from survivor's guilt." She looks directly at me – not that there is any other shinobi she could be talking about.

I sigh and raise my hand. So what if I don't want them to know I feel guilty? Again I pose the question, is it so wrong to not want to talk about my emotions to random strangers?

_Not like you talk about your emotions to your friends. _That little voice inside of my head reminds me. _So who else is left to talk to but random strangers?_

A buzzer goes off, distracting me from my inner thoughts.

"That is all the time we have for today," Dr. Tanihira says as she turns the alarm off, "The next meeting is on Tuesday, four days from now – please be on time."

Tuesday, that's the day of the final round for the Chunin exams. But if the meetings at the same time, which she's implying that it is, then it should be done before the round starts – hopefully. If not then fuck this place, I'll just leave.

I stand up with the others but instead of wasting time walking I just perform a few seals and the room disappears and the outside of my apartment fades into view. I place my hand on the doorknob even though I know I shouldn't be here – I should be going back to Asuma's, I shouldn't be alone right now.

Fuck that. I know I'm suppose to be in rehab. I know I'm suppose to stay clean but my brain just doesn't want to acknowledge that reality right now. I know, with basic reasoning, that what I'm feeling right now – this desire for something to numb this pain – is only my craving for the addiction I'm trying to stop.

But the fact is that I'm really just a weakling underneath this façade I've created for the rest of the world to see. I can't stop this desire within me. And because of my weakness I turn around and find myself walking down the familiar path I've taken so many times.

Within a very short time my feet have taken me to one of the allies that are near this apartment building.

"It's been longer then normal Kakashi," Yori says, "I thought I had lost you as a customer."

"Unfortunately for me you have not." I sigh as I run a tired hand through my hair.

"Well, what is it you wish for today?"

"I don't care, the strongest thing you have." I pull out my wallet.

"Cost?"

I show him the contents of my wallet and he nods. Money is not an issue here.

"You know, for a name that means 'dependency' you sure picked the right job."

He laughs, "You could say that." He hands me a small, brown, paper bag and I hand him the money. The amount I don't care to count – for me it doesn't matter anymore.

I place the bag in my back pocket, turn around, and quietly leave.

"You shouldn't be here Kakashi."

I blink as the sun temporarily blinds me – I had been in the shadows of the ally for a little too long.

"Why do you care where I spend my time, Shibi?" I say his name with a little more anger then I had originally meant to.

"If you are not careful Kakashi your shinobi title will soon become permanently revoked."

"That shouldn't matter to you." I quickly brush past him, dropping my gaze down. Maybe, just maybe, I'm a little – just a little – ashamed.

He grabs my left arm as I past by and stops me. "Don't do this Kakashi," he whispers into my ear before letting go.

I don't acknowledge his words, instead I just keep on walking, keep on pretending that I'm not about to do what I'm going to do. If that makes any sense. Part of my mind says it doesn't but I ignore that part – I always ignore that part of me.

It's easier that way.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I pour myself my fourth cup of coffee, watching my hands shake with the nervousness I can't ignore – where is Kakashi?

I'd broken my last three coffee mugs by holding them just a little too tightly. As a result I've had three steaming hot coffee spills to clean up; which isn't really that fun.

And now it's four. The sudden knocking at my door startles me, for I'm not expecting any visitors, and my newest cup – filled with coffee – shatters in my hands. I know it can't be Kakashi because he would've just come in and skipped the whole 'knocking' part that is involved when entering someone else's house.

I wipe my hands on my pants, for I can't find a towel nearby, and make my way to the door. I look through the peephole to find someone I had not expected to be here.

I twist the knob and pull the door open. "Shibi?" I question, "What is it?"

"It's Kakashi," he simply states.

"What's wrong?" I can feel my panic rising but I quickly suppress it. Panicking isn't going to help fix whatever has happened.

"He bought drugs."

I sigh. Why am I not surprised? Even with the threat of losing his shinobi title looming over his head he still can't stay away from drugs. But then again, I guess it takes time for someone to kick an addiction.

"I think you should talk to him before he succeeds in ending up like his father," Shibi suggests.

I nod. "Thanks, I'll go find him."

The Jounin makes a small gesture with his head that just might've been a nod of acknowledgment but I'm not quite sure. It's hard to tell with Shibi… very hard.

I sigh and shut the door on the retreating form of the Aburame clan leader. I can only pray that I find Kakashi before he takes whatever drugs he managed to get his hands on.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I can't hear Kakashi – that in itself is troubling. I can sense his chakra though the walls but I can't hear him. I place my hand on the doorknob and brace myself for what might be on the other side.

I push the door open to find Kakashi just sitting on his couch.

He looks up at me. "You look silly."

I blink in suppressed surprise and make my way over to him. "Is that so?"

"Especially when you walk."

I nod. "Really? Do you know why?"

He points at the brown paper bag on the floor near his feet. I stop and pick the bag up to examine its contents – but there's nothing in it.

"Everything looks weird."

"How so?" I ask as I drop the bag and sit down beside my friend.

"I don't know… just colourful… and, and animated. And disconnected. I can't touch anything."

I stare into his eyes – they're dilated. And he's perspiring, a lot.

"My fingers are tingling."

Tingling, dilated pupils, sweat… what drug can this be?

I look down at his right hand to notice that it's shaking… a tremor maybe? What does that add up too?

He looks away from me. "I can't remember… and that makes me happy." I watch as he stands up and walks over to the center of the room.

He turns around to face me, a broad smile on his face – masked pushed down to his neck and hitaiate discarded on the floor somewhere.

"I want to stay like this forever." He spreads his arms out sideways, leans his head back so his face is towards the ceiling, and closes his eyes. "I like not remembering. I like being happy."

Euphoria. I should probably add that to the list of symptoms.

I watch in silence as he stays still – just standing there – for a few minutes. And then is eyes open in alarm and he collapses to his knees. At first I'm too shocked to move but I quickly regain my composure and soon I find myself kneeling beside my friend.

His breaths come in ragged gasps and his body is far too hot to my touch then it should be. I immediately reach to his wrist to take his pulse but he pulls away from me.

"Don't touch me," he hisses.

"Kakashi," I try to reach for his pulse again.

"Don't touch me!" he screams as he pushes himself into a standing position.

I try to stand up but instead find myself sprawled out on the floor. The pain radiating from my left abdomen tells me exactly where Kakashi's foot made contact with me – an action I was not prepared for.

I gingerly stand up and look at my friend – sweat drenches his body as he slowly backs away from me. His process is haltered when his back hits the wall and his eyes widen in panic and fear.

"Kakashi." I try to calm my friend down but he doesn't seem to want to listen.

And then it clicks in my brain – the tingling, sweat, dilated pupils, tremors, euphoria, and now this panic – it's LSD. LSD that quickly went from a good experience for Kakashi into a very, very bad trip.

My worry shoots up another notch as I remember one of the physical effects of LSD; an increased heart rate. That cannot be good for Kakashi's weak heart – and that's probably what started the bad trip. His heart became affected from the drug and then he must've started to panic – which in turn caused a bad trip to begin.

"Leave me alone," he whispers as I slowly walk over to him. I can't make any sudden movements, it will only freak him out more then he already is.

"Kakashi, we have to get you to the hospital, okay?"

He shakes his head. "Hospitals are bad. People die there."

"People are also saved at hospitals."

"No one is saved at hospitals… only death."

I get close enough to touch Kakashi and I reach out to grab his wrist. For the brief moment I make contact I notice two things – the rapid heart beat that is going to quickly turn deadly if not dealt with and the insane amounts of heat coming from his body.

He has hypothermia. Now it is a question of what will kill him first, his failing heart or hypothermia?

I duck as he flinches away from my touch and tries to punch me. At least one thing is going for me right now – the LSD has lessoned his coordination.

My hand reaches up to grab his arm and stop his movement but he stops himself before I can. His eyes widen even more in panic as his breath comes in impossibly short and quick gasps.

I watch as he presses further into the wall and his hands start to clutch at his chest – right where his heart is.

"Chest… hurts…" Kakashi gasps out as he slides down the wall to sit down.

I quickly scan the room for what I realize I should've gone to in the first place – the phone. I find it on the floor not far from where I stand and I make a b-line for it. I quickly call 119(1).

"LSD induced heart attack," I say as soon as I hear the call get picked up. I didn't even wait for the operator to respond.

"Where is the emergency?" the woman on the other end asks. I drag the phone with me as I crawl over to where Kakashi is sitting.

"Hatake Kakashi's apartment." I curse myself for not remember what the address is.

"Do you know the address sir?"

"No, I don't know the fucking address! If I knew the address I would've told you!"

Kakashi's eyes flutter closed. I take his right hand in both of mine as I hold the phone against my ear with my shoulder.

"Just hold on Kakashi, okay?" I feel his hand squeeze tightly around my own.

"It hurts."

"Is there anything I can do for him?" I ask the operator.

"Emergency services are on their way," she states.

"That doesn't help me right now you fucking bitch," I mutter in anger.

"Don't Asuma," Kakashi chokes out – his eyes still shut tightly, "Don't be angry at her, she's doing her best."

His hand relaxes in mine and I drop the phone, my worry for my friend causing me to forget about the operator on the other end.

"Kakashi?" I shift forward a little bit and shake him slightly, "Kakashi?"

He doesn't respond and my fear rises with every passing second. I quickly feel for his pulse to find it weak – far, far too weak.

And fading.

Slowly but surely it is fading… slowing down with every moment that time carries on by.

The door squeaks open from behind me and I quickly snap my head around to see who it is – praying that it's the doctors.

"I knocked but no one…" Jiraiya's voice trails off as he takes in the sight before him.

"LSD, heart attack," I say as I return my attention to Kakashi – now completely unconscious.

Within seconds Jiraiya is kneeling beside me and his fingers join mine in feeling for the pulse of Sakumo's son. I can barely concentrate on anything now as I realize just how much of this is my fault.

If I had only phoned the emergency number right away then they would already be here. If I had only kept a closer eye on Kakashi then he wouldn't have even been able to buy, or take, the drugs.

My breath hitches in my throat and my vision blurs with unshed tears as his heartbeat stops completely – something both Jiraiya and I notice at the same time.

We both look up at each other and our eyes meet – brown to black – in complete and utter understanding and grief.

This is really going to be the end of Hatake Kakashi – son of the White Fang of Konoha.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**(1) 119:** The emergency phone number for the fire department and ambulance in Japan – akin to 911 in North America.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 7:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **I skipped writing the whole "Orochimaru tries to take over Konoha but fails" fight scene/thingy because it seems kind of pointless for me to write it when everyone can either read it in the manga or watch it in the anime. So I just skipped that part because I'm awesome like that._

_Oh, and please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I've been here many times over – pacing up and down the waiting room in a pitiful attempt to ease the nervousness and impatience churning inside of me. It's amazing just how many people had come through these doors to show their concern in the last few hours. Some had stayed longer then others but none of them could find the strength within themselves to stay till the bitter end to find out the result.

Would he live or would he die?

His heart had failed – he ended up technically dead for over two minutes before the doctors could revive him. And now he lays upon the operating table receiving a new heart that everyone knows his body will reject almost immediately – it isn't even remotely compatible with him. The donor heart came from a body that wasn't even the same blood type.

The doctor said there was no other choice. His heart was destroyed and he needed a new one immediately or else he would die. So now we wait for news of success or failure. Would his body even be able to receive such an incompatible heart? No one is quite sure.

But then I think, this is Hatake Kakashi – how could he not survive through this? Fate has dealt him many cruel hands over the years but it has always managed to keep the man alive. So why would it change its way now?

"You've been pacing the entire time," Jiraiya says from his position leaning against the wall. "Which has been over four hours."

"It's easier this way."

"No it isn't… and you know that."

"Shut-up," I mutter in frustration, "You're not helping."

I hear him sigh as I turn around and pace to the other end of the room. I must be getting very annoying to all the other people here waiting but I don't really care.

A doctor walks into the waiting room. "Asuma? Jiraiya?" he questions. I turn around and walk over to him – Jiraiya moves and stands beside me.

"There's good news and bad news," the doctor begins, "Kakashi's body received the heart but has already begun to reject it. We should be able to control the rejection with heavy medication until we find a more compatible heart and his body becomes strong enough to receive another transplant."

I have to briefly close my eyes to control the tears of relief that threaten to spill from my eyes.

"Normally I would, at this point, recommend complete bed rest for the patient," the doctor continues after he allows a few moments for us to bask in our happiness and relief, "But I'm not naïve and I've treated Kakashi before. As soon as he wakes up he's going to find a way out of this hospital so I'm asking you two to please just keep an eye on him; make sure he takes his medication and please keep him away from any recreational drugs. They **will** kill him in his current condition."

"I'll try my best."

"We'll both try our best," Jiraiya speaks up.

The doctor nods in acknowledge, then adds, "We've sedated him for the night. You can go see him if you wish but there is little reason too."

Jiraiya and I turn our heads to look at each other. "I'll go inform Sandaime about the situation," the Sannin tells me and I nod in response.

He knows that I won't be able to rest until I see Kakashi, breathing and alive, for myself.

"I want to see him," I tell the doctor and he nods.

Jiraiya turns and walks away while I fall into step beside the doctor. The two of us make the trip to Kakashi's room – far down the hall in the ICU – in complete silence. We reach the door, room 915, and the doctor pulls the door open for me.

I walk inside and the door shuts quietly behind me. The beeping of the monitoring machines is the only thing that breaks the silence. I sit down in one of the two chairs in the room, the one directly opposite the door, and watch the rise and fall of Kakashi's chest. This is the second time in, what has it been, – one month? Two months? – that Sakumo's son has nearly died by his own hands. This is becoming too much for me. Far, far too much for me.

I'm going to break if I have to go through this again. I can't sit back and watch him die but yet nothing I do seems to help him.

His falling and I can't save him. It's as if I was the one who was holding him and he let go himself – plunging to his own death by his own decisions. But why? Why does he always turn to everything else but his friends to try and ease his pain? Has he not learnt that nothing else will save him? Has he not learnt that the drugs, the alcohol, the cutting, the seclusion, does nothing but torment him further?

I hug my knees to my chest as I continue to stare at Kakashi's rhythmic breathing. He's always been the silent one. Preferring to keep everything bottled up inside of him. I knew that from the day I met him – I just got that feeling, I think everyone does.

There's so much I don't know about him. So much he's never told me. I've never gained his trust, not really. And yet still I sit here – offering whatever help I can give him even though I know he doesn't really trust me enough to take it.

Or maybe he does.

Maybe he trusts me but he's just scared – perhaps scared of hurting me? But what he doesn't know is that pushing me away hurts far more then sharing the pain. I'd rather take some of his pain on as my own instead of sit back and watch him bear it all himself.

I hear the door open but I don't bother to look up and see who it is. I fear that if I turn my attention away from Kakashi then when I return it to him he will be dead. I know this is a completely irrational thought but I no longer care – with Kakashi even the impossible becomes possible.

"Son?" He picks up the other chair, sets it down beside mine, and sits down.

"I… I can't do this," I choke out as I hug my legs closer to my chest, "He won't let us help him… he just won't. He's too stubborn, or stupid, or maybe he just doesn't care anymore – I don't know. I never know."

"Asuma…" He places his hand on my shoulder in comfort.

"If this doesn't stop I'm going to end up just like him." The tears blur my vision as I don't even bother trying to stop them.

"No you won't," my father's own voice begins to break, "I will never let that happen – you know that."

"You let it happen to Kakashi," I accuse.

"I tried Asuma… but he's never really opened up to me."

"You did this, you know that right?" I blurt out, unable to hold my tongue anymore, "From the very beginning this was all your plan. "Make him hit rock-bottom and then he'll get help,"" I repeat the very explanation he gave me for this whole plan all that time ago. "Well, it's not working. It's not **fucking** working," my voice cracks as I desperately try to stop my sobs, "You fucked up." My voice drops to a barely audible level.

I can taste the salt on my lips from my tears. Tears of what? Fear? Shame? Anger? Frustration? Helplessness? Grief? I don't even know. I don't understand. None of this makes any sense. I was never suppose to end up like this, this wasn't the plan. When did dealing with Kakashi become my whole life? When? I never made the decision that my life would revolve around Kakashi. And Kakashi definitely didn't make the decision for me. So who did?

When did this begin?

My father and I sit in silence. He knows I speak the truth – however bitter of a pill it is for him to swallow. He did this himself, from the very beginning. He's refusal to see Kakashi's pain and need for help. The refusal to remove Kakashi from duty when he needed it just because Konoha couldn't afford to lose such a valuable Shinobi – even for a short time.

"You could've prevented this years ago," I mutter, breaking the tension between us. "You could've nipped this in the bud so very, very long ago."

"I know," he replies, a sense of coldness in his voice. "Don't think I don't."

The door squeaks open and I hear the soft, familiar footsteps of Kurenai. The Hokage stands up and leaves the room – letting Kurenai and I have our peace. She sits down in the seat my father just occupied.

"Asuma?" she questions as she lays a hand on my shaking shoulder, "Why won't you look at me?"

"I'm sorry," I desperately try to stop the sobs. "I'm sorry our life has become nothing but 'Kakashi-this' and 'Kakashi-that.' I never meant for it to be like this – I really didn't."

"Don't." She leans over so that her breath is warm against my ear. "Don't be sorry. I hold nothing against you for helping him… he needs it and he deserves it."

"But I can't help him. I realize that now," my voice starts to shudder as the sobs I just recently got under control come back in full force. "This is all in vain, it won't solve anything."

"You're stronger then you give yourself credit for," she whispers, "You can, and you are, helping him more then you or he realizes."

She stands up and takes my hand in her own. "He won't wake up tonight, and he won't die tonight, so let's go and find some peace if fate wishes to grant it to us."

I nod as I let myself get pulled up and led out of the hospital room. Perhaps tonight, with Kurenai by my side, I'll be able to forget about this all for just a little while.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I knew where I was before I even opened my eyes up. And because I knew where I was I saw no **need** to open my eyes up that moment.

But now I do for the sounds of soft footsteps can be heard down the hall – probably about a minute away. Which gives me only a minute to make my escape or else I will be trapped in this building suffering through test after test for whatever ailment fate, or myself, has placed on me.

And so I open my eyes and gingerly sit up. I carefully remove the wires, that monitor my health, attached to my body and pull off the breathing mask. I stand up quickly and make a few seals – the hospital room disappears and the view of an apartment door fades into my line of vision.

This isn't my apartment door – even though I meant it to be. Which must me that subconsciously my mind must've figured out that I can't be trusted alone anymore. I can't really say that that surprises me after what happened the last time.

Mental note: LCD should be avoided in the future.

Second mental note: Chakra use should also be avoided in the future – or at least until I figure out how badly my heart has been damaged… it hurts my chest, mainly my heart, too use chakra now.

The door is pulled open but I don't even remembering knocking. I must have or else Asuma wouldn't have opened it, would he?

"Kakashi?"

My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I immediately reach to my neck and pull up the crumbled mask that lays there. His eyes are red, has he been crying? And if so, then why?

"What's wrong?" I question, not even attempting to enter his apartment at the moment. Entering can wait, what's bothering my friend cannot.

"What's wrong?" he asks in disbelief, "What's wrong!" His voice gets louder in anger with every word.

This isn't going to be good. I can tell that now and already I regret coming here. I should've stayed at the hospital.

"You want to know what's wrong? Everything!" He steps forward – forcing me to step back. "The problem is clear to me, I don't know how I could've missed it, you don't see it though – do you?"

I shake my head, not quite sure what he's talking about or what, if anything, I'm suppose to get out of this. Not that it really matters since I seem to not really care about anything anymore – my emotions seem to have disappeared. Which is not something I feel particular saddened about since it was the emotions that were fucking with me so much. Maybe if the emotions stay gone like this then I will be able to return to whatever resemblance of normal that my life was before all this shit started to happen.

"It's you, it's the fact that you don't see it that's the problem," his voice continues to get louder with anger and frustration, and maybe regret? – I'm not too sure. "All this, everything that's happens, it affects me more then it's ever affected you! One day, one day I'm going to end up dead because I gave far more then I had too you and you don't even give a fuck!"

My back hits the railing as Asuma walks right up to me – his face centimeters from my own.

His voice falls down to a whisper, "It's almost like this is a game to you, like you're not even trying to get better. You go to where you're told to go just so you'll be able to have a chance to get your job back. But at the end of the day you just go straight back to the same old pattern. Maybe it's because you don't know better – I like to pretend that it's just because drugs are the only way you know how to cope," his voice starts shuddering with hidden grief, "But you don't even entertain the idea of getting help other ways. You won't even try. You just push everyone away and do the same old thing over and over again. And now you're left with a heart that came from a body that wasn't even the same blood type as you… and you expect to live long enough to see active duty again?" He shakes his head in disbelief and bottled up anger, "You keep coming back to me like I'm some lifeline that you can just use up and throw out. I can't keep doing this Kakashi… I just… I just can't."

"So… so that's it?" I question, not quite sure I'm understanding what he's trying to say, "You're just… just… not going to…"

"This is it Kakashi… this is the end." I can see the tears that threaten to spill out of his eyes. "I can't keep doing this – I can't keep being an enabler like this. It's either the drugs or my friendship. Either get serious about getting help or… or… just leave."

"But… why? How? I don't… I don't understand," the panic begins to rise inside of me and the comforting lack of emotions I had just a few moments ago is now gone.

"I've talked… I've listened… I've learned. Someone, just recently, has opened up my eyes. I don't want to Kakashi… I don't want to leave you but there's no other way. You're dragging me down with you and I can't let that happen… I just can't." He sighs and steps back – giving me some space again. "I know you don't understand, I don't really myself. But maybe… just maybe, if you really lose everything you'll see what you just cannot see right now."

"I don't even know what that means," I mutter, "I don't even know what you mean. Do **you** even know what you mean?" My voice starts to rise with my own anger at the realization that I've once again pushed away one of the few people who've I've managed to create some sort of relationship with.

"You have no one to blame but yourself," Asuma says as he turns away from me and returns to his apartment, "And remember, if you find a way to crawl out of the grave you've dug yourself into then I'll be here waiting for you – no, for Kakashi – to come back."

The door shuts behind him and the conversation I've just had begins to really register in my mind.

He's gone.

That's it. Nothing more to it. He's gone. I've pushed him away and he's finally had enough. Gone because of me – because I've been to selfish to realizes what I was doing and now it's too late.

It's always too fucking late.

A part of me wants to force my way into his apartment; wants to yell and scream at him and try to make him understand how much I need him. But another part of me, a calmer part, is telling me that I knew that this was coming – that it's my fault and I now need to deal with the consequences.

I turn and walk away, letting my feet take me to exactly where I know I need to go now. The place where I can talk to those I know can't hear me and pretend that what I've done is not the end – even if it is.

"And so I'm back here again," I whisper into the wind as I stare at the all familiar sight of the Memorial Stone. "I feel like I'm a teenager again – broken and left with no one but myself."

It takes me a few minutes to notice the tears that flow from my eyes and soak my mask. "I'm sorry you know, I never meant to end up this way Sensei. I was suppose to re-establish the Hatake name, make something of myself. It's just… I don't even know what it is. I'm just desperate for something but I don't know what. A life maybe? You know, a real one. Except I don't know what a real life would be or how to go about getting one."

Obito's eye sees much, that I know, but the path I'm to take is something it cannot see.

"I wish you were still here." I mutter as I collapse to my knees, hands clenched in the dirt. "You always knew the right things to say Sensei. You always knew how to fix everything."

"It was something he was good at, wasn't it?"

My head snaps up and I twist my body around to see who dare intrudes me. My eyes narrow in some sort of emotion that I'm far too worn out and too tired to identify and name.

"You gave us quite a scare."

"He won't talk to me," I blurt out, "He's gone. I pushed him away Ji-san." I cringe, I haven't called Jiraiya-senpai 'Ji-san' since I was a little kid too scared to bother with formalities. "I fucked up. Again."

He kneels down beside me and wraps his arms around my shivering body, "Asuma just needs time by myself – time to figure out what he wants and what he needs. He just needs a break."

I shake my head. "He won't come back." The sobs hitch my breath and choke my voice. "Another relationship I've lost. If I could just be better… be fixable… be something. I don't even know what. Just something else, something that isn't this. No one wants this, wants what I am, but I don't know what they want nor how to get it."

"Kakashi…"

"Don't, just… just don't… I… it's…" my voice fades way as the grief of losing yet another friendship has broken what remained of my already far-too-shattered soul.

Time moves on, as always, and has left me behind again. That I know, that I've always known. Here I sit, shattered just like before. History has repeated itself – the one's I care for I've pushed away.

"Ji-san," I whisper, "Why have you always stayed by my side?"

"Because," his voice falters, "because I remember what a happy and carefree child you were – before any of this happened. Before the Academy and the training, before the Genius label you were given and the missions you were pushed to take. I remember the child you were, the child you were meant to be… and I still believe that a part of that child remains in you, a part of you will survive all of this."

He pauses, "I will not stand idle and watch you live the life fate has handed you when you deserve far more – it's just not right."

"Nothing we do is right so why does it matter?"

"Much of what we do we cannot control, this I can."

"This you think you can," I argue as I pull away from him. "But time and time again you've been proven wrong. You cannot control this – no one can."

"That's true, I cannot control you, but I can control how I treat you. And in turn I hope my actions will affect yours – will help you."

"History has said they won't," I stand up and turn my back to him – wiping the tears off my face. "So why do you continue to try?"

"Because without effort there is nothing. And besides – history is made to learn from. One day Kakashi, one day you will be happy again. All you have to do is hold on."

I hear him stand up and walk to stand beside me.

"The end is not here unless you let it be. Asuma is still your friend just give him time."

"The end came and went over a decade ago," I whisper, "I'm now just living years I was never meant to see."

"Do you truly believe that?" Jiraiya's concerned eyes turn to meet mine.

"Yes."

"Then do you mean to give up now and not see this through?" he questions.

"No… not yet… Konoha still needs me so for that reason alone I will stay – for as long as I can."

"Your optimism is groundbreaking," he sarcastically replies, "Completely groundbreaking."

I bite my bottom lip in an attempt to stop the tears that still threaten to fall. "This was not the plan."

"The plan is never precisely executed. Besides, it's only the end that matters. How you get there isn't as important."

"The end justifies the means, neh?"

He nods and we fall into silence for awhile.

"The final rounds are today… Sasuke is waiting for you but he will not be able to wait for much longer."

I nod as I lock my emotions away to deal with later. Now is not the time – now the students of the Hidden Ninja Villages must show their strength and garner the attention of the spotlight.

Now is time to forget about my own problems and look to those of others.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_/\/\Insert Orochimaru tries to take over Konoha scene/\/\_

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The grief I feel is actually exceeding the pain that incases my heart right now. I used too much chakra defending Konoha for my weak heart to take and I know that it might fail at any moment. But that isn't what is terrifying to me right now – no, what is terrifying to me right now is the current reality that I really don't want to face.

The Sandaime is dead.

The grief is crushing me, overwhelming me, making it hard for me to think. To stand here, in a circle of Jounin that surrounds the dead body of the Hokage – for the second time in my life – is something I had never even considered to be possible.

But reality cannot be denied; not this time. I can't run away from this situation, I can't pretend this isn't happening. There is no drug in the world that could ease the pain I'm in right now. There is no physical wound that could distract me from this reality.

Orochimaru might not have succeeded in destroying Konoha but he did succeed in dampening the "Will of Fire" of this village.

And the thing that hurts the most is that this man that lays dead before me is the father of the friend that has basically told me to fuck off and get out of his life. So what now? What is to be done?

I tear my eyes away from the lifeless body and look up to find that the one who should be here is not.

"Where is Asuma?" I question, breaking the cold silence and tension of the air around me.

All eyes turn to look at me and then slowly they begin to search the immediate surrounds for the one in question. Where is the Hokage's son? Where is the one that needs to know of this death far more then anyone else.

"I'm here Kakashi."

I turn around to stare at the man who I think is still my friend but I'm not quite sure. Either way, friend or not, the grief in his eyes is enough to break my heart into yet another shattered piece.

The pain I have carried with me for so long – the pain of my father's death – is now mirrored in the eyes of one who I never wished to see it in.

I'm not quite sure if my heart is actually failing or if it's just emotionally breaking for my friend. But I guess it doesn't really matter for the pain is still there and still so very, very real.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I take a few steps forward and hug Asuma's cold and emotionless form.

"Remember shinobi rule number twenty-five?" he whispers into my ear.

"No matter what the situation a shinobi must keep emotions on the inside," I recite the familiar rule, "You must make the mission your top priority and you must possess a heart that never shows tears."

"We've both broken that rule enough times over the last few weeks… today does not warrant such a thing. He deserves our recognition, not our tears."

"And yet you're breaking the rule," I point out as I pull back from the hug.

"So are you."


	9. Chapter Eight

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 8:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **Again… I skipped the whole Itachi kicks Kakashi's ass scene because I found it pointless to write it._

_I'm not very happy with this chapter… well, I like the first part of it but not the rest. However, no matter what I do (I've rewritten this chapter about 3 or 4 times now) it just doesn't seem to get any better. //sigh// I guess this is what it's going to be._

_Also… who else is pissed that the anime isn't animating the Kakashi Gaiden? I'm glad the fillers are over now but for fuck sakes animate the Kakashi Gaiden. It's not like it's not important or anything because it is! Fucking anime!_

_Oh, and please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

It's like a little lightening storm in my stomach. My throat full of pinecones, and a little twitch in the corner of my mouth. Wouldn't hate feel better now? Wouldn't drunk feel better? I'm not even feeling sorry for myself. I feel only worthless. The wall is fifteen feet away from me, the ceiling is five feet above me. The couch is behind me. Nothing around. A lamp. The table is cluttered. I have no money. Sexuality was used against me uncountable number of times in my life, but this time it's not against me. It's just there, full of shame, and hurts to be regretted. Am I a mistake? I've felt this before. I do not cry.

I do not cry.

Will I die of heart failure or liver failure? All that work learning to love myself and here I am – confined to my own solitude. I was invited back into life, I declined.

I'm so fucked up that it makes me sick. Still these stupid things I say and do, I seem so emasculated. Sound like a eunuch. I had a one night stand last night, I did the same thing a month earlier. Why do I feel so undesirable?

What are you doing at 7PM on Saturday? Starving yourself. You're sitting alone in your apartment. You're guessing the distance to the walls across the room to move your thoughts, anywhere, move them. Move them. Because here is the worst place to be. Little pinecones fill my throat, a thunderstorm in my stomach. I do not cry. Everything I accomplish is empty. I have nothing

Kids have no foresight, kids, they remember yesterday and tomorrow. I know that much – I remember that from my childhood. Sometimes I wish I was still like that. Sometimes I feel I am. I'm in no different shape, still self-loathing, certain of my immanent failure.

Nothing will change. Nothing will pull me off the floor of the shower. And I do not cry. I did not cry in the shower yesterday, I did not cry today, and I will not cry tomorrow. I didn't even cry when I woke up this morning. Living in my life, in my ugly little body, trapped in this lethargic fucking thing and needing to feed it. I am told I drink too much, that I will die. That nothing is better about me now, but now you know my secrets. I've blared them from the rooftops thinking if I was thorough, you would understand. Thinking if I was honest you would understand. Thinking if I would meet the truth, the truth would set me free. But all this truth falls on my head like bricks of gold. Truth is golden in crushing form.

It's breathing in that feels most unnatural. The breathing out happens on it's own. The breathing in is cold and aggressive. The breathing in is what makes you think you're crying. That and the sulfur lava streaking down your cheeks. And the pinecones that you can't swallow. And the whirling, rumbling thunderstorm in your stomach.

I'm not drinking. I'm not smoking. And I do not cry. I have eyes of iron and teeth of stone. I have bark for skin. My heart doesn't beat. I eat only sunshine. I make jokes, I don't need to breath. Nobody is here and I have never felt lonely. I have never felt sad.

Does it make you feel powerful? Does it make you feel smart to tell me my faults are exactly those which I have just told you of? You thought I would change, just because I knew my faults? You thought admitting them would cure them? I'm sorry I'm so inconvenient, that knowing my problems doesn't solve them. You ask me how long it has been since I ate. Seventy-two hours. I thought about it all day, and I told these bones to get out and buy groceries. But I don't.

I feel nothing and I do not cry. Though it was only three days ago since your father died you've already pushed me away in an attempt to help me. Obito's eye has shown me many things but what I should do now, what I need to do – is something it refuses to show me. You, Asuma, are my friend.

But I have lost you now… though you still hold hope for our friendship I know it is gone. Broken. Shattered. Dead.

And I do not cry. For today was the last of my tears. They are spent now. Tonight I am numb. Tonight my pain is gone. Tonight my life starts anew again. Tomorrow I will wake up. Tomorrow I will start over. Tomorrow I will be numb and cold. I will breathe out and ignore the breathing in. I will return to the cold solitude that has kept me alive.

I will not cry.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I stare blankly up at the two Elders… unsure of exactly how to react. The fact that I'm currently kneeling on the floor – attempting to remove the blood stain that remains from when I attempt seppuku, all that time ago.

"Are you kidding?" I finally settle on saying as I let go of my cleaning cloth and stand up.

"No," Koharu says, "We, the Elders, have thought long and hard about this and though it took a while both Homura and I managed to convince Danzo as well."

"Well your efforts were in vain," I state as I walk over to the kitchen. "I refuse."

"But isn't this what you always wanted?" Homura asks. "To re-establish the Hatake name? To make something of yourself? To prove your worth?"

"If I become Hokage then Konoha will fall." I pull out a container of dog food. "I have no leadership skills."

"You have more skills then you give yourself credit for," the female elder says.

"I'm tired of people telling me that." I sigh as I fill up Pakkun's food dish. Where is that dog anyways? "I may know a lot but I can't implement much of it."

"Will you not at least consider it?"

"No." I replace the container of dog food into the cupboard. "Ask Jiraiya-senpai, he's far better suited for the position."

"He doesn't have the drive, nor the desire, to protect Konoha," Homura says, "Not like you."

"Then ask Tsunade, if you can find her." I grab a glass off the container and turn the tap on – filling the cup up with water.

Koharu sighs. "If we ask them and they both refuse then will you reconsider?"

"If you can find no one else who is qualified for the position then I will consider it." I take a sip of water through my mask. "But there are many shinobi that I've worked with over the years who are far more qualified then me and more emotionally stable then I will ever be."

"Are you sure of this?" Homura asks.

I nod. "Yes."

"Very well, we have our answer then. Let's go Koharu."

I watch as the two elders quietly leave my apartment and I let out the nervous breath I was holding as the door shuts behind them. They asked about nothing except whether I would accept the position of Hokage or not. They didn't speak of the fact that I've been skipping all my psychiatric meetings – group ones and one-on-ones – or that I haven't been seen out anywhere in the past two weeks except to go to Sandaime's funeral.

But I'm not really that surprised. They're probably more worried about Asuma then I. After all, no one's heard any word from him since the funeral. Out of the few people who've come to see me here not a single one could tell me any news of Asuma – not even Kurenai.

And what am I suppose to do? He told me to get the fuck out of his life. Even after Sarutobi's death he still told me to not talk to him, to not see him, until I get better.

He still puts my health, my happiness – my life, ahead of his own. He needs me – I know that, he knows that, everyone knows that. He needs support, help, he needs friendship. Even if I can't give him much he still needs me – just like I've always needed me. But he's still pushing me away in hopes of helping me.

And no matter how hard I try to get better, no matter how serious I am about it, the fact is that it will take time. Far more time then either of us has to spare.

I sigh as Pakkun crawls out from his position under the couch, walks over to his food dish, and starts eating. I place the half-filled glass of water in the sink and walk over to where the cleaning cloth lays, right beside the dark red blood stain.

"It won't come out," I state as I stare at it.

"Of course it won't," Pakkun replies, "It's been there too long."

"I can't stay here as long as the stain remains."

"Then get a new carpet."

I look over to the dog and he just shrugs at me. "Or move?" he suggests.

"I'm not moving, there's no where else to go." I run a tired hand through my hair. When was the last time I slept anyways?

"There's always the Hatake house. Or have you just kept that house around for the memories?"

I laugh – an exhausted, pain-filled laugh that contains none of the merriment that laughs should hold. "Memories? Why would I want to keep the memories that that house holds?"

Pakkun shrugs at me again. "Since when do you do anything that makes any sense?"

I take a deep breath to try and settle my racing mind and I walk over to the cupboard underneath the sink.

Pakkun lifts his head out of the food bowl and looks at me.

"Don't say anything," I mutter, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

"If you drink when you're on your medication it's not going to be a good mix."

"I told you not to say anything." I open up the cupboard and pull out a bottle of sake and stand up to find Pakkun now sitting on the counter looking at me.

"How many times have I told you not to sit on the counter?" I ask, trying to hide the anger from my voice.

"Don't do this," he simply states.

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do." I reach over him to grab a glass from the cupboard.

"You promised Asuma."

"I've promised a lot of things." I fill the glass up and set the bottle down on the counter.

"You're throwing your friendship away… is that what you really want?"

I down the glass in one drink. "Maybe it is," I mutter as I refill the glass. "It's better for him to not be my friend anyways. After all, all my friend's have ended up dead. Why should he end up like that too?"

"It's been two weeks and already you've given up."

I finish the second glass in one drink too. "I haven't given up."

"Yes you have."

I shrug as I place the empty glass on the counter and turn around. "What does it matter to you? You're just a dog."

I walk to the door, twist the doorknob, and open it. It closes softly behind me and I can hear Pakkun muttering but I don't make the effort to try and figure out what he's saying.

I don't pay attention to where I'm going but I make sure I push down my hitaiate. It can't be past noon right now yet the village is quite. Why? It seems odd to me. But then again, a lot of normal things seem odd to me since normal usually refuses to come anywhere near me.

I pay no attention to where my feet take me. Something that I know I should probably be paying attention to.

"Kakashi?"

I shake my head slightly to clear my thoughts and I focus my attention to the outside world to find out who's talking to me.

"Tama?" I ask the young girl in front of me. She nods and drops her eyesight in nervousness.

I wait for a few seconds but she doesn't continue so I start walking again. She grabs a hold of my left arm as I pass by and I freeze. "What do you want?"

"Why didn't you save him?" she whispers, eyes still downcast and her voice shaking with nervousness – and is that fear? I think I hear fear in her voice. Is she scared of me?

"Who?" I ask… not quite following her.

"Sandaime… why?" Tama clarifies.

"I'm on suspension… I didn't fight." I pull my arm out of her grasp and continue walking down the street that is starting to get more and more busier.

"Yes you did!" she shouts at me, "I saw you!" I stop and turn around to face her.

"I've asked around about you," she continues in a voice so low I can barely hear her. "I've read what little there is out there about you. It's all the same. Your one of the strongest, if not the most strongest, shinobi in Konoha. You take the most dangerous missions. People says that's why you're a little unstable – why you do stupid things some times. That's why you snapped and killed all those people before."

"Get to the point," I snap.

She steps back… like my voice scares her. Maybe it does, I don't know.

"If you're so strong then why did you let her die?" she asks.

I walk to stand in front of her and I kneel down so I'm at her level. "Have you ever been to the Memorial Stone?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Go there one day. And when you're reading the names carved into that marble keep in mind that half of those names, maybe even more, are there because of a Hatake – either my father or I. And that's just the shinobi." I stand up and look down at the child. "I've lost count of the civilians that have also lost their lives because of a Hatake mistake." I turn around and walk away. "Once you've done that come back and tell me how strong of a shinobi I am." I don't bother to hide the anger and bitterness in my voice.

I weave my way through the growing crowd of people filling the streets. A part of me wants to jump on to the roofs and travel to whatever place my body wishes to take me that way but another part of me wants to take my time. I don't know why though. Perhaps because time is meant to heal everything?

I chuckle to myself. Time heals nothing yet I keep believing that it might. Why? Why have a suddenly started grasping at fool's hope? It doesn't make sense. It's not me… it's not how I function.

I stop suddenly… finding myself on the bridge that looks very, very familiar. But why? What have I done at this bridge?

Oh yes, I remember now. This is the bridge I often told Team 7 to meet me at at some ungodly early hour. Then I would always be late. I was happy back then, at least, I think I was. I'm not completely sure. That time of my life has slipped from my memory now – covered with a thick fog. A time I know happened but I can't be certain of the details anymore.

I lean against the railing and watch the water flow past. I remember now why I always picked this bridge – it's on the outskirts of the village so it's less busy and quite.

"It's been a while since you've been out."

I turn my head to look at Jiraiya. "So it has."

He leans against the railing beside me. "You smell of sake."

I shrug.

"You shouldn't be drinking with the medication you're taking."

"I know," I reply.

He changes the conversation. "Sasuke wants to talk to you."

"Why didn't he come to find me?" I ask.

"I offered to tell you for him. I didn't think it would be so hard to find you though." He chuckles.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"You've stayed in your apartment for two weeks straight and then the day I want to find you is the day you disappear." He shrugs. "It just seems a little amusing to me."

"Did he say where he wanted to meet me?"

"The tea shop."

"There's lots of tea shops in Konoha," I say, "You have to be more specific then that."

"He told me it was the only one Team 7 ever went too – I can't remember what it's called now."

I nod.

"I saw Asuma earlier today," Jiraiya whispers.

I snap my head to the right to look at the Sannin. "You what?"

"I saw Asuma… at a café."

"And…" I prod.

"He told me to tell you "Hi" and "Not to worry about him" and that he's "Surviving" – all the usual bullshit."

"That's good." I bite my bottom lip to keep my emotions in check. I told myself I wouldn't cry anymore. I told myself that I was done with that – that it was time to return to being numb, to functioning in the only way that works for me.

"I'm going to go find Tsunade," the Sannin states.

"So they asked you too, neh?"

"What do you mean?"

It's now my turn to chuckle, "Homura and Koharu came to my apartment earlier and asked me to become Hokage."

"I take it you declined."

I nod. "And you must've too."

"I'm not the one for the position," he explains – even though I didn't ask him too. "I wouldn't take it seriously enough."

"And I would take it far, far too seriously."

He sighs. "I'll be taking Naruto with me to keep an eye on him. We're leaving later today."

"That's good. He'll benefit from being with you – he seems to enjoy it anyways." I run my hand through my hair to get it off my face.

"I should go then," he says. I nod.

I don't take my eyes off the water as I listen to Jiraiya turn and walk away. I wait for a few minutes – maybe ten, perhaps fifteen – before I too leave and make my way to the tea shop.

It doesn't take me long to get there and when I do I see that Sasuke's no where to be found. However I do find two suspicious people inside the shop. One of who I recognize from his chakra alone.

Uchiha Itachi.

I lean against a post and wait. Knowing that when Sasuke comes I have to keep him from noticing that his brother his here, it will only cause a severe problem if he does figure it out.

I sense the familiar chakra of two people I know coming nearer and I look up to see Asuma and Kurenai approaching. My mind begins to race – what should I do? What should I say?

Asuma catches my eyes and shakes his head slightly. He knows who sits in the tea shop too. He knows we can't afford to talk of anything private… not now.

I smile underneath my mask. Very well then Asuma. If light conversation is what you want then light conversation is what you'll get.

"Hey you two! You guys look good together… are you guys on a date?" I ask, forcing my voice to not carry any of the emotional burden that currently weighs down on me.

"Idiot!" Kurenai replies, "Anko asked me to pick up some sweets for her."

"What about you?" Asuma asks – doing a remarkable job of hiding his despair from his voice, though I can still – just barely – hear it there. "What are you doing here? Are you picking up some sweets too?"

"Not really," I answer, "Sometimes I stop by to buy some stuff… right now I'm meeting up with someone. I'm waiting for Sasuke."

"It's very rare to see you waiting for someone," Asuma observes.

"Kakashi," Sasuke states as he walks up to me, "It's very different for you to arrive first."

"Well… for some occasions…" I stop my sentence as the two men in the tea shop disappear.

"I was planning on buying some sweets," Kurenai says, "It's useless now."

"Yah, it is," Asuma replies.

I give a slight nod to both of them to show that they should go on ahead, and then do. I'll meet them soon but first I must make sure Sasuke is not suspicious of anything.

"What is it that you wanted?" I question the Uchiha.

"I can't remember now," Sasuke replies. "Who were those people?" he asks.

Fuck… he is suspicious. That's not good. "The two in the tea shop?" I ask and he nods.

"No one you need to worry about," I explain. "Just some shinobi under observation."

"For what?" he prods.

"You know I can't tell you that… classified information."

He nods. "I guess I'll leave since I can't remember what it was I wished to ask you."

"Very well." I watch as he turns and walks away.

Once he's out of sight and out of hearing range I make those familiar seals and the tea shop fades from view while a road, running parallel to a large river, fades into view. I grab a hold of the trunk of the tree I'm on to catch my breath and settle the dull pain that now envelopes my heart. This isn't going to be good.

I watch the battle before me… Asuma against Kisame and Kurenai against Itachi. I know that the both of them won't be able to beat the two Akatsuki members. In fact, in my current condition – with my heart as weak as it is – I highly doubt I'd be very effective. In fact, if I have to fight them both it could be the death of me.

I push up my hitaiate and stand up on the unsteady branch. I perform a series of seals and create a Kage Bunshin. Just in time too as I find Obito's eye copying Kisame's jutsu and I automatically perform the same seals as I run to stand in front of Kurenai. The water from the colliding Suikoudan no Jutsus (1) hiding the movement of both myself and my Kage Bunshin.

"Hatake Kakashi," Itachi states in acknowledgement. He's eyes run up and down my body, taking me in, deciding just how much of a threat I am. "Your chakra has lessened since the last time I saw you," he says, "I wonder if the rumours about your health are true."

"You can decide for yourself," I reply as I focus on his eyes.

Those eyes are the eyes of a true Sharingan successor. This is probably the worst possibly situation I could find myself in. But there's nothing I can do about it now.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Insert Itachi kicks Kakashi's ass scene. Because let's face it. Itachi did kick Kakashi's ass._

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**(1) Suikoudan no Jutsu:** Water Shark Splurge


	10. Chapter Nine

**Self-Sustained Hell**

**_Summary_: **_.:.:Ch. 9:.:. With delusions plaguing his every step, with memories destroying his sanity, with his will to live slowly slipping away, will Hatake Kakashi be able to trust his friends enough to let them help him save himself? .:.:Sequel to **Black Day:.:.**_

_**Genre: **Angst/Drama_

_**Rating: **T_

_**Author's Notes: **I am not a doctor so I apologize in advance for any medical mistakes I made. For the ease of research I've decided to use modern medical treatments and names for diseases/medicines for this story. It just makes it easier for me to keep track and find out information. So, I'm sorry if I royally screw up the diseases or the treatment – I tried my best to keep it straight and factual._

_Oh, and please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes...blah...blah...blah._

_**Disclaimer: **Masashi Kishimoto owns Naruto, not I. I make no money from this story, please don't sue. _

**Please R&R…Thanks!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I frown as I read the medical file on the shinobi that lays in the bed before me. Well, to be correct I'd have to call it the edited medical file of the shinobi… he's been in the hospital far more times then his file states. I know that for fact for I did treat him many times as a child.

I sigh as I flip back and forth between the first two sheets in the file. He was here for surgery not that long ago yet it doesn't state what kind of surgery. I close the file and place it on the night table beside the bed.

"What have you been doing all these years Kakashi?" I whisper to myself, "Because it doesn't look like taking care of your health was even on your priority list."

"Is he going to be okay?"

I take my eyes off of the prone, pale figure of the Hatake genius to look at the Third Hokage's son. "I'm not sure," I answer, "I have to get a hold of his actual medical file, if it even exists, before I can make a decision."

Asuma nods. "I wish I could help but I don't really know what actually happened between him and Itachi."

I shrug as I place my right hand on Kakashi's forward, channeling chakra into his body in an attempt to at least wake him up. My eyebrows furrow in concentration and worry – why won't he wake up?

"I'm going to have to come back later," I inform Asuma, "I'm going to take a look at Lee first and then find Kakashi's medical file."

"You can't wake him up, can you?" A sad chuckle escapes his mouth.

I take a deep breath. "Not at the moment but I should be able to after I examine him further."

He nods and I have to remove myself from the room. I can't bring myself to stay there knowing full well that I can do nothing for Kakashi at the moment.

And I can only hope I can help him when I get more information.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A doctor enters the still room where Kakashi sleeps and Asuma, Genma, Jiraiya, and I stand.

"So you're the one who's treated Kakashi over the years I've been gone?" I ask him and he nods. "Your name?" I ask.

"Dr. Yoshida," he replies as he hands me a folder. "This is Kakashi's confidential file."

"I'll be treating Kakashi from now on, therefore I'll be holding onto this file." I open up the folder that's quite a bit thicker then the one I previously had on Kakashi. "Is there anything not mentioned in his file that I should be aware of?"

"His drug abuse is the only thing I've never recorded down," he replies.

I nod and then my eyes go wide in shock as his last report catches my eyes. "Why did he receive a heart from a Type A blood donor when he has Type O blood?" I don't bother to hide the anger in my voice.

"It was the only heart available at the time," Yoshida replies, "The previous heart had completely failed and had to be removed – his body was attacking it and breaking it down."

"Well that answers the question of what is wrong." I close the folder and set it down on the night table. "His body is attacking this heart and making him weak, which caused him to be more susceptible to whatever Itachi did to him."

I pull the blanket down to uncover Kakashi's body and run my hands just over the top of his skin, from his head down to his feet. With my eyes closed I focus chakra into him in another attempt to wake him up and find out what happened. If I know what happened then it should be easier for him to help him.

"When was the last time you did a blood test?" I question, my eyes still closed in concentration.

"Um… it was a long time ago. You'd have to check the file."

I stop my evaluation immediately, open my eyes, grab the file and flip open to the last report I ever made. I quickly scan the paper and find what I'm looking for.

"Come here," I say to the doctor and he walks over. "Read this out loud, for all of us here to hear." I point at the last sentence I wrote.

"Blood tests should be performed monthly to check for blood-borne diseases, autoimmune diseases, and genetic abnormalities," he reads.

I quietly flip through the folder. "The doctor that took over Kakashi's care after me did the blood tests every month but once you were given the job the blood tests stopped. Why?"

"I was not informed of the suggested test times." He shrugs at me.

"Suggested?" My voice rises with anger that I can't quite control. "They weren't suggested. They're **required!** He doesn't have a healthy body – that's a fact brought on by the genetic mutations his mother carried and passed on to her children."

"I… I wasn't told," he stutters out, suddenly looking like he's going to piss himself.

I close the folder and place it back on the table. "You have eyes," I say, "Read the fucking patient file next time."

He nods nervous. "I'll make sure I do."

"You better. Now get out of my sight!" I snap, "And call a nurse to come in here to take a blood test!"

"Y… yes," he mutters and then leaves rather quickly.

I tiredly rub my eyes with my hand. "This is not good."

"His mother had genetic mutations?" Asuma asks in concern.

I look over to the Hokage's son and nod. "It never affected her but she passed them on to both her children. Kakashi's brother, Senji, died from complications brought on from an autoimmune disease – which his mother carried but didn't suffer from."

"Is that what's wrong with Kakashi? Does he have an autoimmune disease?"

"I don't know Asuma. It's possible." I sigh. "Which is why the blood tests were suppose to be carried out every month so that we would know, and could catch anything in the beginning stages."

"What is an autoimmune disease?" Genma asks from his position sitting on the window seat.

"An autoimmune disease is when one's own body cannot recognize its own constituent parts which results in an immune response against its own cells and tissues," I explain. "Basically the body attacks itself for no real reason."

Genma nods. "I see." Then returns to looking out the window.

The door opens and a nurse walks in with a couple empty vials and a syringe. She hands them to me and push up Kakashi's sleeve to draw the blood. My breath hitches in my throat and I'm forced to briefly close my eyes to hold back the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. I knew he was a self-mutilator but not to this degree – not this seriously. Many of the cuts on his arm probably should've been stitched up and I find it hard to believe that he hasn't died from blood loss from the deep cuts themselves.

It takes a couple tries but I finally manage to find the vein with the needle. I fill it up with blood and then remove it, place the tip in the vial and push the blood into it. I hand the filled vial to the nurse and she screws the lid on it. I repeat the process three more times in order to get four filled vials of Kakashi's blood.

"Is Kakashi on the transplant list?" I ask the nurse as I dispose of the needle.

"He's first on the list – always is when he needs to be," she answers.

I nod. "Send for me when the test results are back. I'll be in my office."

"Yes," she answers as she leaves, quietly closing the door behind her.

"There's nothing more you can do for him right now?" Jiraiya asks.

"Not until I can figure out more about his health. And even then, he probably won't wake up until a new, actually compatible, heart replaces the one he currently has."

At least, that's what I hope. But a little voice in the back of my brain keeps whispering at me. Telling me that I just might not be able to save him.

He just might not wake up.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I rub my eyes in an attempt to relieve the headache that has now formed.

"I tested him for tuberculosis too and it came back negative," the nurse says.

I look up from the paper she handed me a few minutes ago and send her a quizzical look.

"Just incase you wished to prescribe a TNF blocker," she explains, "Then we wouldn't have to waste time testing for tuberculosis since TNF blockers increase the risk of infection and tuberculosis is the most common infection that occurs here."

I nod. "Very good… I'm glad you did that."

"So – what is it that you prescribe?" she asks.

"I only want him on an intravenous drip for his dehydration and malnutrition right now. Until he has a heart transplant I'm not risking putting him on an immunosuppressant."

"What about the NARTIs or NNRTIs?" the nurse questions me.

"I can't give those to him without his consent because he's not in a life-threatening condition… well, not involving those—"

A knock at my door interrupts me. "Come in," I call out.

Dr. Yoshida walks in, looking a little nervous.

"Yes?" I ask.

"I was sent to tell you that a new heart has become available for Kakashi and to ask if you wish to perform the surgery yourself."

"Who would perform the surgery if I don't?" I stand up from my desk, handing the results paper back to the nurse.

"I would." He replies.

I smile. "Well then, I'll definitely do the surgery myself."

He nods. "I'll inform the hospital that you're on your way."

He bows, as does the nurse, and they both quietly leave.

"Is this wise Tsunade?"

I look over to Shizune. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't performed a heart transplant in a very long time… is it wise to do one now?"

"I did multiple heart transplants for Kakashi when he was younger, it is not something that is easily forgotten." I smile reassuringly at her. "Don't worry about this – it will work out."

Oh god I hope it works out.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I heard the breathing of one other person here long before I had the strength to open my eyes. I could also smell the signature antiseptic smell that is characteristic of hospitals long before I even heard the breathing of the other person.

Eventually I realize that my chest, specifically my heart, doesn't hurt at all – not even a little bit. The dull ache that had been constant for so long is now gone. I know what that means. I know that I've had a heart transplant – again.

"I know you're awake Kakashi," a familiar female voice breaks the silence.

I smile underneath my mask and crack open my right eye to find Tsunade sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. "So Jiraiya manage to persuade you, neh?"

She chuckles. "Naruto helped too."

"He's a hard one to refuse, isn't he?"

She nods but her face sombers slightly and she sighs. "I haven't sat here all night waiting for you to wake up for no reason."

I push myself up into a sitting position, noticing for the first time the I.V. line in my arm. "What is it?"

"When I looked in your file, your actual confidential file, I notice you had not been given a blood test for a very long time. When I specifically noted on my last report for you, all those years ago, that you were required to have a blood test every month if possible." She pauses and I can feel the nervous ball in my stomach start to form.

"I did a blood test and unfortunately the results were not that good." She drops her gaze to the paper in her hand, unable to look at me. "You are dehydrated and malnourished, which is why you're on an intravenous I.V. line."

"That's not all." I say after the silence stretches on for, what feels like, a couple minutes when it was probably only a few seconds.

"You also tested positive for the autoimmune disease Ankylosing Spondylitis, which was passed to you from your mother." She pauses and takes a deep breath, her eyes still focused on the paper shaking in her hands. "And HIV, which I can only guess came from your drug use and using dirty or shared needles."

"Ankylosing Spondylitis," I repeat. "Isn't that what Senji had?" I whisper – it's still hard to talk about him. Still difficult to remember my brother without the emotional pain.

"Yes… but fortunately it's in the early stages and with medication and proper physical therapy we should be able to control it."

"But what is it exactly?" My voice sounds foreign to me, like I'm not really saying it, like I'm not really here. "I can't remember."

"It's an inflammatory arthritis disease that primarily affects the spine and sacroiliac joints," she explains, "Causing the eventual fusion of the spine which results in a complete rigidity of the spine. A condition known as bamboo spine."

I nod, unable to find the words to ask the questions that I don't really know if I want to know the answer too.

"HIV, there's no cure for that, is there?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Unfortunately not. But it is treatable too. If you consent to the treatment then we can begin it right away, for both diseases."

"What is the treatment? What do I have to do?"

"Well… for the Ankylosing Spondylitis I recommend the TNF blocker etanercept, which is an immunosuppressant. However, etanercept will increase the risk of infections which means you have to be careful with any injuries you sustain… including your cutting."

"My cutting?" I question, completely surprised that she knows about it.

"I'm not an idiot and I'm not blind Kakashi."

I nod. "What about the HIV? What do I need to do for that?"

"That's more complicated and will require a strict schedule of different pills at certain times. Which your used to from your heart medication but you don't always follow. This time you're going to have to, with both the HIV medication and the heart medication."

I push my hair back and off my face. "What do I have to take?"

"You need to take two different nucleoside analogue reverse transcriptase inhibitors, or NARTIs, and either a protease inhibitor or a non-nucleoside reverse transcriptase inhibitor… in this case I'd recommend a protease inhibitor. So the drugs themselves are Zidovudine and Tenofovir – the two NARTIs – and Fosamprenavir – the protease inhibitor."

"I'm never going to be able to keep that all straight," I mutter in frustration. "I can barely even keep on top of my heart medication, now this too."

"Don't worry about it," she says, standing up from her seat. "Just come see me every month and I'll give you your medication already organized in containers for the days and times you have to take them. All you'll have to do is just read the labels and swallow the pills."

"Thanks," I whisper as I desperately try to keep my emotions hidden.

She sighs. "There's nothing more I can tell you except that for now you are healthy. As long as you take your medication, and **eat**, then you should be fine."

I nod and watch as she folds up the paper that was in her hand and quietly leaves. "Oh, and also," she states, pausing at the door. "You've been discharged since you'd leave anyways. Just report to my office in the morning, which is only a few hours away." She opens the door and closes it softly behind her.

How could I have done this? The Ankylo… whatever the fuck it is… is something I couldn't control – that I know. But the HIV. That disease, that's **my** fault. My mistake. My carelessness. My refusal to be careful.

My fault.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I stare at my rippled reflection in the river – a part of me wondering exactly why I agreed to go on a mission so soon. I probably shouldn't have.

But that isn't something I can change now.

I sigh heavily as I remove my bloody gloves and slowly dip my hands in the river. The water feels cool against my skin and turns red as it washes away the dried blood.

I'm too old for this.

The water runs clear again and I dry my hands off on my pants. I put my gloves in a pocket in my Jounin vest and stand up, leaning heavily on a nearby tree. I can see Konoha from here but I don't really feel like going back there – even though I know I need too. This is too much, this life I have now. Just missions and medication – just killing and pills. It's not something I wish to partake in. Now, more than ever, I feel the hopelessness that weighs down upon me.

My fucked up health and Sasuke's fucked up revenge. Will I be able to save him? I don't know, I just don't fucking know anymore. I fear going back to Konoha, I fear being told that Sasuke has left to pursue Orochimaru – to pursue power and vengeance.

My legs start walking on their own. Taking me to the village I'd rather avoid. But I know I must go, I know I must face what awaits me there. I have a feeling that I already know what I'll be told but I still must hear it. It doesn't become truth until the words are spoken. It doesn't become truth until the lies are discarded.

I find myself in the Hokage's office. The time went by quicker then I thought; probably because I don't remember. Tsunade speaks the words I knew she would. Sasuke is gone. Genins have pursued him. I leave. I tell her I will return. Pakkun finds his scent. I follow as fast as I can. Time is running out. Time is growing short.

It's hard to breathe around the lump in my throat, but I must. It's hard to see through the haze of memories that shroud my vision, but I must. It's hard to concentrate when the emotions won't leave me alone, but I must.

I reach the clearing. Pakkun sniffs the Hitaiate. Tells me it's Sasuke's. I want to pursue him, I want to drag him back. I could do it, I know I can. I have the strength too. But I can't. Naruto comes first. His health is more important.

Fucking morals.

His body in my arms. I watch as he breathes. I watch as he heals. His body is remarkable. The demon inside of him gives him strength beyond what I would've ever imagined.

He looks so much like Sensei. So much like Yondaime. I wonder how I ended up as his Sensei. It's odd really. The demon that killed my Sensei lays within him.

It still hurts.

It's hard to see through the tears that threaten to spill from my eyes. I blink them back. He wakes up. He says something. I reply. It's an automatic reaction. I'm good at that. Good at carrying on conversations without really paying attention. We reach Konoha. I take him to the hospital. Tsunade talks to me. Asks me questions. I answer. She tells me to go home. She tells me to rest. She tells me not to blame myself. She says it's not my fault.

But it is. Because I failed him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

So fucking sorry.

I get home. I punch the wall. Another hole to patch up latter. My knuckles bleed. It stings but I don't mind. I never mind. I figure I should eat. I don't. I take my medication. Pills upon pills. Never ending. It will never stop. I curse my parents for giving birth to me. I hate them both.

I don't really.

I drink. I know I shouldn't. I wish I had drugs. I don't. I want to buy some. I don't. Instead I drink. Drink. Drink. Drink. Drink.

Drink away the memories. Drink away the failure. Drink away the emotions. Drink away his face, his voice, his everything. It's not just Sasuke either. The Sandaime is still in the forefront of my mind. His face burned into my skull. His limp and dead body just lying there. Orochimaru killed Sarutobi. Orochimaru stole Sasuke.

I hate Orochimaru.

Another glass. Another empty bottle. Another hole in the wall. Another cut against my skin. Another one. And another one.

Drink and cut. Taste the alcohol, see the blood. Does it calm me now? Am I better now? Am I numb now? Another drink, another cut. It doesn't help. Nothing will help.

Tears blur my vision. Another failure to add to the list. Another failure among the many. Will it ever end? Will it ever be over? Will it ever be enough?

I try.

Try.

Try.

And fail.

Fail.

Fail.

I just can't do it. I just can't help. It's never enough… it's never what's needed. I'm always too slow, too weak, too _something._

Another drink. Another cut. Another hole in the wall. Another tear. Another scream. Another failure. Another mistake. Another lost one. Another end that comes too soon. More empty bottles. More blood. More tears.

Fall to me knees. Sobs rack my body. I can't stop. I can't stop. I'm sorry. So fucking sorry. Beg for it to end. Hope to forget. Nothing stops. Nothing changes. I mutter under my breath. Words I don't pay attention too. Words you can't understand. Mutters of a crazy man. It just won't end. It just won't stop.

I'm sorry. Another one lost. Another one to add to the miles and miles of names I already have. Another face to mix with the thousands of others. Another one gone. Another one to add to my pain; my grief and guilt. They will all say it's not my fault. They will all tell me not to feel guilty.

They all lie. Lie right to my face. They think I will believe them. They think I will understand. But I don't. I never do. I know the truth, I always have. I always will.

It doesn't make sense. The reasons why. The fact it's always my fault – it doesn't make sense. It's always my fault. It's me who ends up sorry. Me. Me. Me. Me. Always fucking me.

I drink. I cut. I cry. I sob. I try to forget. I can't. Can't forget. Can't stop. The pain never heals. Never fades. It's always there – for eternity. I will never forget. I will always remember. I wish I didn't.

Take more medication. Know I shouldn't. Don't have drugs so I take the pills instead. Still no number. Just sick now. Throw-up. Can't stop. Haven't eaten so it's just alcohol and stomach acid. Hurts. Burns my throat. Take more pills. Don't know why. It doesn't help. Maybe to die?

I don't want to though. Or maybe I do. I actually don't know what I want anymore.

Curl up in the fetal position. Pakkun crawls up against my chest. I hug him. He doesn't say anything. Just licks my face. I feel his love. I can tell he cares. At least someone does. My body shivers. I'm cold. The alcohol and the medication mixes up in my stomach. Makes me feel sick. I don't throw-up – nothing left to throw-up. Throat is raw. Cried so much it made my throat raw. Hurts.

It hurts everywhere. The pain. I don't know if it's emotional or physical. Maybe it's both. I don't know. I don't care. It just hurts. Want to die. Know I can't. Failed. Failed. Failed.

Close my eyes. Will my heart to stop racing. Body shivers.

Finally I fall asleep.

Failure.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

I've been crying so much that my throat is bleeding. I'm grasping and clutching for some attention. Anything to tell me I'm alive. That I'm still fucking alive. I've been crying so much my fingernails are bleeding. I gnaw at them. I gnaw at my knuckles. There's a spot on the back of my calf that I scratch as I stare into oblivion.

I've chewed and torn my fingernails and cuticles down to raw stubs and sucked on them until they stopped bleeding. The spot on the back of my left calf grows each morning as I shower. I'm ashamed of it. It's humiliating, The groove of my life line traced over and over by that kunai, knife, whatever sharp object is near me. My boney fucking fingers feel. The inside of my lower lip tastes like a penny. My cheeks are shredded. They have little kelp strands of skin that spin in little circles as I run my tongue around them.

I was laying in the shower this morning and filled my mouth with water, wondering what would happen if I gasped it in like it was air. I threw up when I tried. But I hadn't eaten again in four days so I guess it was just left over sake and stomach acid. It tasted terrible. I ate vitamins when I got out of the shower. Try to take care of myself anyway. There's a callous forming on my upper lip. It's creepy. For some reason I thought I might be able to drown. Wouldn't that be funny? I knew I couldn't. I knew I wouldn't. I don't want to die. But I was just wondering. I also wasn't trying to puke. That doesn't count either. I'm trying so hard to prove I'm good. Listen to me try to defend this stupid shit. I sound like a damned ventriloquist. Something taught me to pretend like this.

Yes. I puked. Yes. I inhaled water as hard and fast as I could. That is what it is. I am so fucking alone. I think like this sometimes, even though I would never act on it – not now. If I died right now, I would probably have three days before I even missed a phone call. That's depressing because gross things happen to you after that long and I would want to look nice.

I just screamed as loud as I could. I said the 'f' word. I want God to hear me. It's so repulsive when a person is reaching out as hard as I am right now. Clawing for love. Clawing even for attention. Grappling for any fucking mite of value. Nobody cares if I'm alive. They would cry and hurt if I was dead, but nobody gives a shit that I'm alive. I'm a fucking burden. There's no room for grace. Not yet anyway.

I'm a bad friend, didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell everybody? I'm a bad friend. That's just part of the package. I try. I try and try to be a good friend, but I am a bad friend. Hold me accountable for that, if you would. I'm terrible. I'm destructive. I'm a goddamn bottle rocket and you just can't stay close to me. Nobody can. I know it. Everyone I've ever cared for has died. You think I don't notice my trend? I'm volatile. I hurt you. I hurt each and every one of you. I'm a terrible person. You think I don't know that? If I have any prominent quality, it is that I observe things. How would you think I don't know how awful I am? Do you think I like it? Do you think I like who I am? I hate who I am. I always have.

I hate these gummy fingernails. I hate my copper lips. I hate my shit-stain eyes. I hate my gaunt cheekbones. I hate the empty sockets under my eyebrows. I hate my concave chest, furry like a pervert. I hate my twiggy fingers and brittle arms. I hate the blue-green roots that run under my skin on the back of my hands. I hate the things I said to you. All of them. Ever. I could have done better for myself to shut up and chew a clump of my tongue. You may not have liked me as much as you did for a while, but at least you wouldn't have such fierce contempt.

I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt you. God fucking damnit. I'm sorry I hurt you. Do you hear me? Do you believe me? Do you know what I mean? I'm sorry I tortured you. Sorry I hurt you. If I drowned this morning – I'm sorry I hurt you. It's frustrating because I know how bad that hurts too. There's no win for me. There's no escape either. It's drowning without the payoff. Weary. Heavy. Sadness. I'm so smart, aren't I?

I'm so capable of making people feel loved. I have made so many. So many. So many people feel loved. So I'm a let-down. At least I've done some good. I'm not going to kill myself. I promise. But I'd like you to forget me. I'll leave you alone now. I'll be a Kakashi scattered to the wind. Forget me, and remember me well. I did some good. Some tiny fleck of good. Please. From the mouth of horror, remember me well.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

A knock on the door. How long has it been? A week? Two? I don't know. I don't care. Another drink. I can't taste anymore. On my knees. Tears that won't stop. It's been too long. That I know. Time to move on.

I can't.

Knock. Knock. Knock. I don't reply. Whoever it is should leave me alone.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Another drink. Another pill. I don't even know what day it is. Don't care either. Something in my mind tells me that I'm going to die if I don't stop this.

Don't want to die. At least. I don't think I do. Maybe I just don't care.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Get angry. Stand up. Yell at the person. Tell them to leave. The person screams back at me. A man. His voice is familiar. He tries to open the door. It's locked. I scream at him. Hope he leaves. Take another drink.

He asks me to open the door. I tell him to fuck off. He kicks it open. I scream at him. I wonder what I look like. Take another drink. He stands in shock. More yelling. Both of us now. He tells me I need to stop. Says I need to get help.

Scream at him. Tell him to leave me alone. Tell him I'm fine. We both know that's a lie. He says I'll die if I keep this up. I punch him. He falls back. Gets up. Shakes his head at me. Tells me it's not my fault. I say it is. Tell him it's all my fault.

Cry. Take another drink. He tries to take the bottle from me. I push him off. But he's stronger than me – for once. Over powers me. Takes the bottle. Smashes it on the floor. The alcohol soaks into the carpet. Scream at him. Tell him he doesn't understand. He asks me what my problem is. Says it's not my father, but his, who died. He doesn't understand why it hurts me so much.

Scream some more. Can't get rid of the pain inside of me. Failed. Failed Sasuke. Failed Sarutobi. Tell him I couldn't help them. Couldn't protect either of them. Tell him I failed. Tell them it's my fault. All this pain that everyone is feeling, it's all my fault. He screams at me. Tells me it's not. Tells me to stop blaming myself. I can't.

He says I need help. I tell him it's too late. Tell him I'm too far gone. I don't care. I just don't fucking care anymore. Tell him I'm sorry. He says there's nothing to be sorry about. Heard it all before. Never believed it before and I don't believe it now.

Asks me when I last eat. I tell him I don't remember. Says that's bullshit. Tell him that I think it's been over four days. Asks how much I've drank. I tell him constantly. He gets angry. Asks me why I threw away all the work I did. I scream at him again. He doesn't understand. Will never understand. He tells me he can't keep being around me like this. Says he can't keep enabling me.

Really he just thinks I'm too much of a fucking failure to be around. I tell him that he should leave. I tell him I can't change. He tells me I can. Scream at him some more. Tell him that I'm a horrible person, that I'm a horrible friend. Tell him this is who I am. This is part of the package. He says I can change. I can't. I know I can't. I tried and I couldn't. I put in the effort and it didn't do dick shit.

Want a drink. Tell him to leave so I can have one. He won't. Says he's afraid I'll die. I tell him I won't. He doesn't believe me. Says I need to go to his place. Tell him no. Tell him I'm not a child. He says I can't be left alone. I yell at him, get angry. He tries to calm me down. I don't let him touch me.

I grab a discarded kunai. He freezes. I place it against my neck. He begs me to stop. I tell him that I'm fucking tired of this life. I scream at him. Saying I can't do this anymore. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the pills. I don't know. But whatever it is I just can't handle this anymore.

He begs me not too. I push the knife against my skin. It starts to bleed. He moves forward. I put more pressure and cut. It hurts. He reaches me. The kunai drops from my hand. I start to shake. He cries. The room goes blurry. I can't speak. I try but my voice won't work. The blood is warm against me. Pours from my neck. Runs down my skin. Covers my chest. Soaks my clothes.

I grow weak. He screams at Pakkun to get Tsunade. He lays me down. Rips off part of his shirt. Presses the cloth against my neck. I close my eyes. I feel my pain, all off it, run out of my body with the blood. My life is slipping away. I wonder what I'll miss. Is this the end? I don't know.

They've always managed to save me before. Would they be able to this time? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. A part of me feels regretful. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at Asuma so much. Maybe I should've tried a little more. It's too late now. Failed again. Failed Sarutobi. Failed Sasuke. Failed to help myself. Failed to get better.

I hear other people come in. A female voice barks out orders. Tsunade maybe. I'm not too sure. Another female gasps. Asuma says something to her. It must be Kurenai. I wonder how much blood there is. I wonder how dramatic of a scene I've made. I really didn't mean to be dramatic. It just happened that way.

Wonder if I'll live. Probably not. Make a promise to myself; if I live through this than I have to get better – I have to _really_ try. If I live then no more fucking around. If I live then I have to fix all that's fucked up with me.

I make myself sick. I've fucked up again. Hurt them all again. I'm a horrible friend. A horrible human being. All I can do is kill and hurt. It's all I know. The sounds fade away. I can no longer hear. Cold. So very, very cold.

I'm sorry. Really -- I'm sorry. So fucking sorry that it hurts. So fucking goddamn sorry I can't even begin to fix it. And now it's probably too late. Too late to fix it. Too late to even say I'm sorry. But I am.

I'm sorry.

**The End.**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_**Author's Note: **Wow! I'm finally finished this story. Sorry for the cliffhanger, I just couldn't help myself. :) //evil laugh// I actually really like this chapter. I love the last three scenes I wrote…something about them that I just really like. Maybe the lack of dialogue (I really suck at writing dialogue). And yes…there will be a sequel…eventually. But for now I'm off to finish _Fade to Black_! Hope you enjoyed this roller coaster of a story and I hope to see some of you when the sequel is posted. I want to thank every single person who has reviewed or sent me a PM. I love you all. It is for you guys that I write. It is you guys that get me off my lazy ass and force me to update. I feel guilty when I leave stories un-updated for long periods of time. So thanks to all that have reviewed and you all deserve some sort of prize (a medal, or perhaps a cookie) for sticking with the stories and my sporadic updating. So thanks for sticking through to the end! _


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